


Evil Authors Day 2017

by Mlr96



Category: Criminal Minds, Doctor Who, Grey's Anatomy, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Once Upon a Time (TV), Sherlock (TV), Torchwood
Genre: Time Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-13
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-24 00:49:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 43,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9692303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mlr96/pseuds/Mlr96
Summary: Just the WIP I am currently working on but don't plan to publish any time soon, in honour of Evil Authors Day 2016.1. How Far.2. Like an Open Book.3. My Name is Teddy.4. The Godmother.5. Familial Relations.6. Bleeding Out.7. The Past.8. Born of Iron.9. Blackened.10. When the Bough Breaks.11. All Around the Meadow.12. Minds.13. My Immortal.





	1. How Far

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. How Far:
> 
> Harry Potter. Eventual Original Female Character/Remus Lupin. There was no other choice. If Louisa didn’t do this, they will kill Sirius, and she would do everything to save her twin brother. Even if everything included joining the Death Eaters and becoming a spy for the Order before she was even out of Hogwarts. Warnings: Dark Themes, Consensual Underage Sex, Dub-Con.

_June 1995._

"Dumbledore!"

Harry, Sirius and Dumbledore looked up at the sound of the distressed voice, which came from the direction of the Headmaster's inner quarters. There were many things in there, amongst them a secondary study where the fireplace was.

None of them noticed the first greenish light that came from that direction right before the voice called, but they had all saw the second one that followed closely after.

"Albus!" the voice called again and Harry decided it was most certainly a female voice. "Albus, you promised your help! It happened and I need the favour you owe me! Albus!"

"Now may not be the best time –" Dumbledore started but the voice cut him off.

"I don’t bloody care if it's inconvenient!" the woman all but screamed, closer this time. "You said you'll keep her safe! You promised!"

The woman stormed into the office, bringing a wave of power with her. This woman… she seemed like an element with her white hair glowing, creating some sort of halo – this woman was a natural force by simply _being_. And that natural force froze as soon as she laid her light grey eyes on Sirius.

"I believe you have been informed of Voldemort's return?" Dumbledore questioned. "Harry had just explained the story to us."

The woman's eyes darted to Harry, quickly scanning his scar before looking at Sirius for less than a moment and backing away.

"I can't be here," she mumbled. "I need to… I have to go."

"You can't go," Sirius said, looking at her with shock. "You just arrived."

"I can't stay here," she insisted.

"Lucy," Sirius said, choking on his words. "You… You're dead."

"And you're not supposed to be here," she told him, her voice cracking slightly. She turned to Dumbledore. "I have to go – you know where. Keep your promise."

"What promise?" Sirius questioned. "Dumbledore, did you know about this? Did you know she was alive?"

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply when a small figure arrived behind the woman – Lucy.

"Mum, I'm tired," a girl around Harry's age said.

"I know, luv," Lucy told her. "Go back to the back –"

"Louisa!" Sirius said, rising to his feet as tears shone in his eyes, leaving a very confused and troubled Harry attempting to understand what was he missing. "Who's she?"

"Sirius…"

"Who is she?" Sirius repeated, sternly this time.

"I'm Cassandra," the girl said.

"Cassandra _what_?" Sirius questioned and the girl looked worryingly at her mother.

"Just Cassandra," she said.

"Louisa," Sirius said turning to the older witch. "Cassandra _what_?"

Lucy looked away from him and at Dumbledore, asking for help, as the old wizard did nothing but shrug before she turned her glance at Harry once more.

"Cassandra Riddle," she said, and Harry felt like this night couldn’t possibly get any longer.

* * *

_July 1976._

The grunts of pain that came from Sirius' room broke Louisa's heart, but she waited until she was certain he was alone before she came in. There was simply too much on the line for her to be caught doing what she was about to do – though her parents would probably know it was her no matter what.

Once she heard the signature CRACK of Kreacher's departure, she opened the door to find her twin brother laying on the floor and in too much pain to as much as move himself onto the bed.

There were no marks on him. The old pureblood families knew how to punish without leaving any marks, but it didn’t mean it hurt him any less. The effects of Kreacher's punishment were not unlike the effects of a Cruciatus curse. While no real damage was made, the victim still felt pain and the main worry was for their sanity.

Louisa wouldn’t be surprised to find out that it was such punishments inflicted upon her as a child that caused her cousin Bella to lose her mind, once and for all.

"You need to get out of here," she said curtly.

"Hey, Lucy," Sirius said, though the usual cheeriness of his voice was gone. "Good to see you, too."

"You need to leave," she repeated. "Go to Prongs' house – even Moony's or Wormtail's – just get the bloody hell out of here."

"What's the big deal?" he asked. "It's not like it's something that had never happened before. True, it never happened so shortly after we came back from Hogwarts, but –"

"You need to leave," she said. "You can't ask why, but you need to leave."

It was only rare occasions that Sirius saw his sister so serious, and it scared him to think what it may mean. "Why?"

"I just told you, you can't ask why," she said.

"Why can't I ask why?" he questioned.

 _Because then you'll insist I join you,_ she thought. _And we both know I can't._

"Just… because," was what she said aloud. "Prepare to leave and I'll create a distraction."

"They'll punish you, too," he said.

"I'll be fine," Louisa told him. "I don’t state my opinions as loudly as you do. Besides, they need me."

"As a breeding horse," Sirius said. "They will still hurt you."

"No one wants a disabled or insane wife," she said. "I'll be fine. I'll owl you your things when I will be able to."

"I can't leave you here," he insisted.

"Well, you have about ten minutes to discover how to," she informed him. "I _need_ to stay. You know why."

And he did. Despite how close the two of them were – both in Gryffindor, both Marauders, both thinking their family's opinion was rubbish – Louisa was not as vulgar in her opinions, and by such had a better relationship with Regulus than Sirius did.

That meant that she could still help him where he didn’t allow Sirius to. Whether if it meant taking the blame at home and getting the appropriate punishment, or things more severe than that.

Things like what she was about to do, unbeknown to any of her brothers.

Sirius nodded as he grabbed his wand and a couple of coins – not much but still enough to take the Knight Bus to James' house. He looked at his books and school robes but a quick nod from Louisa was enough to tell him she'll send it with Dixie, her owl.

Slowly, the two of them made their way downstairs, and Lucy entered their father's study.

"What is it?" the old wizard asked, still annoyed with Sirius' behaviour not even fifteen minutes earlier.

"I couldn’t help but overhear what you were telling mother," she said carefully.

"Eavesdropping?" Sirius heard his father's voice booming. "What did I tell you of that, you pathetic excuse of a child? No better than your brother, you are!"

"That is exactly why I came to speak to you."

Sirius' hand was on the door, but he hesitated. If he left now… Louisa would stay here. Could he really do this to her? Shouldn’t he wait and try to convince her to join him?

Then again, he knew she would never leave. She would never leave Regulus alone in this house, and there was something about the urgency in which she told him he have to go that made him know she was hiding something from him.

As he opened the door and slipped into the street, he only hoped she would tell him about it, once danger had passed.

Inside Orion Black's study, the wizard took a close look at his daughter's face. Her expression was as sealed as ever, emotionless and respecting, but there was something else in her eyes, as well. Years of experience told him that eyes were they keyhole to one's soul, and Louisa Walburga Black's eyes now showed determination.

"What is it that you wanted to speak to me about, regarding to your brother?" he asked.

"As I was saying, I heard you talking to mother earlier today," she said. "I couldn’t help but overhear about your conversation with Lucius Malfoy and I simply wanted to say – Sirius wouldn’t do."

"Wouldn’t he?" Orion questioned. "And how would you know that?"

"I know him better than any other," she said obediently. "I know the way he thinks and acts, and I know that he would rather die than do what you want him to. All that would bring is shame upon our family, and the Dark Lord's wrath –"

"Cut the rambling, girl," Orion ordered his only daughter. "Tell me the truth, now – don’t even think of lying to me. Why are you doing this?"

"Sirius never would," she repeated. "But one of us would have to, and I'd rather it be me than Regulus."

"You're doing that because you want to keep him safe?" Orion snorted. "Typical Gryffindor."

"The Dark Lord needs a spy in Gryffindor," she told her father. "Just like he needs one in Ravenclaw and even in Hufflepuff. Regulus would only be one of many Slytherins at his service. I could be something more, and bring honour to our family."

Orion looked thoughtful at that. "I would think about it," he decided. "But know that it wouldn’t be easy. The Dark Lord would want the heir of Black to be at his service, and that is –"

"Sirius!" Walburga's screeching echoed in the halls of the ancient house. "Sirius Orion Black the third!"

Orion rushed out of his office, almost immediately. "What is it?" he asked his wife. "What had the little prat done now?"

"He's gone!" she called. "Took his wand and disappeared! Ran away, the ungrateful bastard!"

Louisa watched, her expression stoic, as her mother ran off to burn Sirius' picture off the family tree, just as she had done to their cousin Andromeda when she had married a Muggleborn a few years back.

Her father's furious glare met with her calm one.

"Sirius is no longer an heir of Black," she said. "And Regulus is too young, even by the Dark Lord's standards."

"You little –"

"He's gone, and I am here, ready and willing to take the mark." It took every ounce of Louisa's strength not to crumble in front of her father. Crumbling will come later, as will her punishment. "Will you send the message forward?"

"Go to your room," he ordered. "Kreacher will come to see you shortly."

"Very well," she said. "But will you ask Lucius to tell the Dark Lord?"

She wasn’t begging like Regulus always did or threatening like Sirius, but accepting her punishment. She understood her mistake and was willing to get what she deserved for it. _Maybe she would fit the Dark Lord's need, after all,_ Orion thought.

"I will talk to Lucius," he informed her. "In the meanwhile, go to your room. And if I see you as much as get your finger out of the line in the next month, the regular punishment will look like paper cut in compare to what would happen."

"Yes, father," she said respectfully, turning around and walking up the stairs with her head held high like a true Black Lady.

* * *

When Sirius finally reached Potter Mansion, his mind was railing. What was going on with Lucy right now? Was she punished? She must be punished. He lifted a shaky hand and knocked on the big, wooden door. About a minute later, and elderly woman answered it.

"Sirius!" she called with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"I ran away," he said. "Louisa helped – said she have to stay – so worried – have to find James –"

"Easy, now," Mrs. Potter said calmly. "I will call James and Charlus, and then we will need you to _slowly_ tell us what happened."

"Yes, Mrs. Potter," Sirius muttered, walking inside and letting her lead him to the sitting room.

Once he was there, Dorea walked upstairs to call her husband and child, but Sirius couldn’t rest. He paced back and forth around the living room, waiting for James to come down. As soon as his friend arrived, he pulled him into a tight hug.

James was confused. It was very rarely that Sirius showed any emotions and usually he avoided any physical contact not with his sister at any cost. Doing something like this… something bad must have happened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. "Not that I'm not glad, but…"

"I ran away," Sirius told him. "Cotton helped me run away, but then she stayed. They're punishing her – I just know it."

Tears started forming in his eyes as he spoke and before he knew it, he was weeping on his best friend's shoulder.

"Isn't there anything we can do to get her out?" James asked his parents.

"Not unless she wants to," Dorea said. "And knowing Louisa, she'll stay to keep Regulus safe."

"We need to save her," Sirius cried. "We – we need to –"

"Right now, you need to rest," Charlus said. "You had a very tiring day. Dorea and I will see what we can do but it might not be much. Without her cooperation, our hands are tied."

"We have to do _something_!"

"We will do everything we can, Sirius," Charlus repeated. "But for now, rest."

So he did.

* * *

It was three days before word came about Louisa. When it finally had, the Black Family owl had brought not one, but two letters. The envelope of one of them was pitch black, and Dorea, recognizing it, suggested he'd open it first.

"Get it over with," she said. "And know that you are always welcome here, no matter what."

_Mr. Sirius Orion Black,_

_Due to the shame and dishonour you have brought upon us during the past years, your allegiances with Blood Traitors and Mudbloods and your disrespect, we are left with no choice other than to disown you._

_You are no longer a part of the Noble and Ancient House of Black. You are no longer entitled to any titles, funds or assets by our name. You have been taken off our family tree. Do not contact us again._

_We are to inform you that any attempt to contact your brother or sister while at Hogwarts will have severe implications to all sides involved. You are no longer wanted, and you will not corrupt them with your ways of thought._

_Do not reply to this letter,_

_Signed by the Lord Orion Arcturus Black, July of 1976._

Even though he knew this letter would come, it still hurt him to read the words. It wasn’t even the disownment itself – he had been expecting it for years – it was the coldness in which it was written. Like he was nothing more than a stranger to them.

Furthermore, the order not to contact Regulus and Louisa at school… he never had much of a relationship with Regulus, but Louisa was his twin, one of the Marauders! He knew she was likely to disobey their parents' order not to contact him, and the punishment she will endure would be his own fault.

With a heavy heart, Sirius grabbed the other letter. It wasn’t written in Louisa's handwriting, but in Regulus', and worry crept on Sirius. _Could their parents really hurt her so much she was unable to write?_

_Sirius,_

_I am taking a huge risk writing this to you, and normally I wouldn’t but Lucy asked me to._

_I know you're worried – you should be. Her punishment was twice as long as yours, and because Kreacher hates hurting her, Mother was there to make sure it was done properly. No need to say it wasn’t a pretty sight._

_It's only when they hurt her that I hate them, and I can't even hate you for that because she told me you tried to take her with you but she wouldn’t come._

_After that, they locked her in the cellar. She's still there. I've been sneaking her food and water whenever I can, but it's not often because you know how hard it is to reach the cellar without them noticing. Kreacher is driving himself mad because they directly ordered him not to help her._

_I don’t know how long she will stay there. What I do know is that we're hosting the Summer Ball in two weeks, so they'll be forced to let her go a couple of days before that so she could be respectable enough to show up._

_I also know she talked to father about something the day you left. I don’t know what it was but he was too satisfied for it to be anything good for her. Also, Lucius was here the following day, and he, too, looked far too content._

_I'll need your help to make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid to save us. Merlin knows you and I don’t get along, but for her I believe we can look past it._

_Father is now writing your disownment letter. Sorry about that, by the way. I'll see if I can get Fortus to take my letter as well. Since you haven’t been formally disowned yet, I suppose I'm not entirely breaking the rules, am I?_

_Keep safe. Don’t get in trouble. Be careful when you leave the house – I know Bella went sidetrack when she heard what you've done and I wouldn’t put it past her to curse you so make sure you are always somewhere with witnesses._

_Also, you might want to look for Andy. If you do, send her my regards and my wishes, since I am not allowed to do so. And don’t do anything too stupid._

_R.A.B._

"What does it say?" James asked, leaning over the breakfast table.

"This one," Sirius said, marking at the black letter, "is my formal disownment." He took a moment, both to calm himself and to let the words he just said sink in. _Disownment._ Such a big word, that says so much. "The other one is from Reg. Louisa's being punished but all in all she's fine. They can't do anything too bad since the Summer Ball is in two weeks."

James closed his eyes, processing everything he said slowly before opening his eyes and looking straight at Sirius.

"We need to tell Moony and Wormtail," he said. "I know you don’t like it, but they have a right to know. And now that we have more information about what's going on with Cotton, we'll actually have answers to their questions."

Sirius nodded absentmindedly, mind filled with dread regarding everything he read on Regulus' letter.

She was tortured twice as long as he was, and with that old hag that was their mother there, making sure Kreacher did it properly. If there was one thing he couldn’t hate the mad elf for, it was that he hated hurting Louisa.

_Kreacher is driving himself mad because they directly ordered him not to help her._

If there was any hope that Regulus would have help taking care of Lucy while she was in the dank, filthy place that was the cellar, that sentence wiped it away.

The cellar was the worst punishment of them all. Worse than the physical and psychological torture, worse than the insults and everything that was so horrible it was shushed, done only behind closed doors and only when there was no social event coming in the next month.

The place was underneath the kitchen, the only entrance through a door that would only open when Orion or Walburga said so. Complete isolation in the small, dark space, usually combined with starvation and repeated physical abuse once a day.

Lucy was there for three days already. She was there for three days, and will stay there for another ten, most likely. It was more than any of them had ever suffered that punishment but, then again, her 'crime' was more than any of them had ever committed.

She helped him get away.

And she still asked Regulus to write him a letter. Even after everything she had been through, she still worried about him more than she worried about herself.

She talked to their father. He had known that, of course, as he was still in the house when the conversation started, and she promised him distraction. What did she get herself into so he can get that distraction?

Their father was pleased, and later talked to Lucius Malfoy. There is no way this was a good thing. At least both he and Regulus agree for once – whatever it was, they need to protect her.

And Bellatrix is after him. Not surprising, since he thought, more than once, that the only reason she hadn’t killed him already was because he was family. Now that he was disowned, he was family no longer.

Talking to Andromeda will probably be a good idea. She always was his favorite cousin, and she will understand what he was going through. From what he had heard, she had a daughter with the Muggleborn she married. More small cousins and, hopefully, not insane ones.

After all, marrying a Muggleborn promised no inbreeding, and when both parents were as _normal_ as Ted and Andy were, there was no doubt that the child would have a wonderful childhood. The one they never had.

"Sirius, are you even listening?"

"No," Sirius said before realizing what he just admitted to and shook himself out of his thoughts. "Sorry, mate. You were saying?"

James fought the urge to roll his eyes, understanding how stressed Sirius must have felt. He knew that because he felt the same way right now, but he was certain that Sirius coated it all with guilt.

"She's fine," he told him. "Regulus said so himself. They wouldn’t hurt her… too bad."

"She still has to be representable," Sirius said poisonously.

"Exactly," James said. "It's not the best, but it's the best we could have hoped for."

"It's the best we could have hoped for," Sirius repeated, sighing and sitting down with James to write the letters they need to send to Remus and Peter.

* * *

Louisa didn’t know how long she spent at the cellar.

After almost an hour of punishment with Kreacher while her mother supervised, the old hag led her down here. She stripped her of her wand and undressed her before pushing her on the cold floor and leaving, door locked behind her.

There was no window in the cellar, no source of light at all, and at first – was it hours? Days? – all Louisa could do is nod in and out of consciousness when the pain overwhelmed her.

After a while had passed, she was vaguely aware of food being passed through the small hole in the door. Before she even looked at it, Louisa asked Regulus to tell Sirius she was fine. She didn’t even know if he had heard her. She didn’t even know if the words left her mouth to begin with.

Then, she devoured what little food he gave her, noticing how hungry she was for the first time. Just as she was done, Kreacher and Walburga returned to another round of punishments.

Louisa had no idea how long she spent at the cellar.

She tried counting her meals, but knew by her hunger that Regulus wasn’t able to give her food regularly. She was always hungry, down there.

She tried counting the punishments, but each of them was so intense that she wasn’t sure if it really happened or if it was just an invention of her mind, since nothing could possibly be this painful and keep her alive.

Then again, that was what House Elf magic was about. They never really hurt her, they just made her be in pain. Maybe she would lose her mind like Bellatrix.

She even tried to count the number of times she had heard people wandering above her. It was the most useless of them all, since she wasn’t sure how often people passed there and she lost consciousness quite frequently.

Louisa hadn’t the faintest clue as to how long she was at the cellar.

That was, until she heard small footsteps outside the door.

She cowered into the corner of the small room as a force of habit. The cellar wasn’t big enough so she could hide, and it didn’t even have furniture – not even a bed to hide underneath.

Not that it would help her if there was.

When the door opened, the light from the hallway blinded Louisa and she closed her eyes, breath ragged with fear of what would happen next.

"Missy Lucy?" Kreacher's small voice came. "Missy Lucy? Is you there?"

"Kreacher?" she croaked. It was the first time anything other than agonized screams left her mouth since she was sent down here. "Kreacher, is that you?"

Of course it was him. It was a stupid question and Louisa understood it as soon as it was asked, but she was in such a state of shock she couldn’t bring herself to care.

"Yes, Missy Lucy," Kreacher said. "Missus Black is to be asking Kreacher to take Missy Lucy to Missy Lucy's room. She is to say that Missy Lucy is to be needing to be clean and rest, because the Summer Ball is in two days."

"The Summer Ball?" Louisa asked. Surely, they can't expect her to go to the Summer Ball in that state! _That was why they gave her two days_ , she realized.

"Yes, Missy Lucy," came Kreacher's reply. "Kreacher is to be needing to help Missy Lucy to her rooms to be clean."

"Clothes," she rasped and with a click of Kreacher's fingers, soft satin covered her body. "I can't go up the stairs, Kreacher."

"Missy is not to be worry," Kreacher said. "Kreacher is to be taking Missy to Missy's room."

"Thank you, Kreacher," Louisa somehow managed and Kreacher neared her, holding her cold hand and apparating them both to Lucy's bathroom.

"Is Missy Lucy to be needing help?" he asked softly and she nodded.

Slowly, the satin was taken off and Kreacher led Louisa to her bathtub. She noticed that he took to covering all of the mirrors, and reminded herself to thank him for that later, when she was in better state.

He heaved her into the warm water and she hissed as they made contact with several frostbites that she had from her time in the cellar. Even in the midst of summer, the cellar was freezing.

It took about half an hour for him to clean her, washing the first layer of dirt off her body and hair. He helped her out and changed the water in the bathtub before bringing her back in, this time scrubbing her for another hour to be perfectly clean and sorting out the mass tangle of white curls that was her hair.

The last time she was so unable to do anything by herself was when she was barely five years old, but she was too exhausted to feel any kind of humiliation.

He helped her out, as carefully as he helped her in, and dressed her in her nightdress even though she could see from the light that shone through her windows that it was the late hours of morning, perhaps midday.

Nonetheless, she was tired and so she accepted his help at reaching her bed.

"I'm not angry with you for not helping me," she told him right before she drifted to sleep. "You were only following orders. You were a good elf."

"Thank you, Missy Lucy," Kreacher said, and darkness enveloped her again.

* * *

_She's out._

This letter, unlike the former one, wasn’t signed. It was sent with Regulus' owl, and not the family owl, and didn’t accompany another one. It was simple, and clearly hurriedly written, but it was all Sirius needed.

As soon as he took the letter, the owl flew away and all eyes were turned towards him. James, Peter and even Remus who joined them two days after the full moon, looked at him, waiting for him to speak.

All he could do was start crying, relieved.

And then James was rubbing circles on his back, and Peter was gaping at him, and Remus was reaching out and taking the parchment, looking at it.

"Out?" he asked. "Out from where?"

"Did she run away, as well?" Peter asked. "Is Cotton going to join us, too?"

"No," James said quietly. "They put her _there_ , didn’t they?" Sirius nodded. "Why didn’t you tell us?"

"I didn’t want you guys to worry," Sirius mumbled.

"Well, we're worrying now."

"Put her _where_?" Remus asked. "What haven’t you told us?"

"The cellar," Sirius mumbled. "They put her in the cellar."

A gasp interrupted the conversation and they all turned around to see Mrs. Potter standing at the kitchen entrance. She came in just in time to hear Sirius' answer, and her hand covered her mouth with undisguised horror.

"No," she whispered. "Why didn’t you say so earlier? We could’ve gone and taken her!"

"She would never come," he replied. "She'd rather stay there the entire summer than to leave Reg alone."

"Stay where?" Peter asked. "What's the cellar?"

"It's exactly what it sounds like," James said. "A small, underground room with stone walls and no light. Sirius told me about it once or twice – it's the worst punishment you can get."

"Usually, they just put us there for a couple of days," Sirius said.

"How long was she there this time?" Remus asked.

"Two weeks."

Another gasp was heard from Mrs. Potter's direction. "Two _weeks_?" she repeated. "What were they thinking? It would be a wonder if she hadn’t lost her mind!"

"No!" Remus called. "She couldn’t have lost her mind! She's… she's Cotton. She's our Cotton. She can't lose her mind," he added, desperately this time.

"She'll be fine," Sirius said, halfway convincing himself, rather than the others. "There's the Ball in two days. They need her to look presentable. I bet Kreacher's already taking care of her."

"Just a month and a half left for school," Peter muttered. "She'd make it, right? A month and a half?"

"You know Cotton," James said. "She's stronger than we ever give her credit for. But when we get back to school… things may change."

"Change how?"

"She'll be expected to act in a certain way, especially next to Padfoot," James explained. "Their cousins would spy on her, and would probably report everything she does."

"We need to make sure she stayed the holidays at Hogwarts," Remus said.

"Or that the five of you could come here," Dorea offered.

"Even if we somehow manage to convince her to let Regulus go home alone, she'll have to return there over the summer," Sirius sighed. "Why did I fuck things up so bad? If I had only –"

"Remember that Cotton was the one to tell you to get away," Remus said. "She knew what she was getting herself into."

"Yes, but –"

"You are _not_ putting yourself in a guilt-trip, Sirius Black, am I clear?" Dorea asked harshly. "Louisa isn’t incapable. She isn’t helpless. She knows what she is doing, and she will be alright."

Sirius seemed to relax a little, as Dorea grabbed the teacups the boys were drinking from and walked to the kitchen. His fear returned almost as soon as he accidently heard her add, "At least I hope she will."


	2. Like an Open Book

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Like An Open Book:
> 
> Criminal Minds + Grey’s Anatomy. Original Female Character. Andrea Reid is Spencer’s twin, and Head of Trauma at Seattle Grace Hospital. This is the story of how she is sucked into the usual drama in the hospital, while constantly worrying for her brother’s life. Warnings: Major Character Deaths (Following GA canon).

 

"What have we got?"

As soon as the ambulance stopped in front of the doors to Seattle Grace Hospital, Dr. Andrea Reid rushed forwards, ready to help her patient.

"32 year old male," the paramedic said. "Two gunshots to the chest and one to his hand. We stabilized him on the field, but he crashed twice on the way here. Currently unconscious but stable."

"Alright, O'Malley!" she called out. "You're with me. Make sure someone calls Torres and Burke, I want you in Trauma Room 1 in three minutes, clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," George nodded, running off to do as Andrea said.

"Anybody else coming?" Andrea asked, as she heard the sound of another siren approaching.

"The FBI agent who took your guy down," the paramedic said.

"Alright, I got him," Miranda Bailey said, and the younger woman nodded.

As Head of Trauma – albeit a young one – every call made about people arriving to the ER had to go through her. Some would say she was tough, and they would probably be right, but it was this approach that made the Hospital a Level I Trauma center, so she wasn’t going to apologize to anybody.

To those who complained, she said they can always go to the Chief. And those who chose to do so discovered the Chief supported her in all one hundred percent.

Just as she reached Trauma Room 1, O'Malley returned to the room.

"Three minutes and twelve seconds," she said, her tome scolding but a playful smile on her face. "Getting sloppy, are we?"

"Never," O'Malley replied, nearing the bed to give her a hand in checking over the patient.

"You called for me?" a voice said, and Andrea didn’t have to raise her eyes to see Burke just entered the room.

"Two gunshots to the chest," Andrea said, stepping aside. "Tell me what you got."

"Dr. Reid, you wanted me?" Callie Torres asked, coming through.

"Is this hand salvageable?" Andrea asked, leading Callie to the gun wound.

"It might be…" Callie said thoughtfully before turning to look at the Attending next to her. "Shouldn’t you call Dr. Chang in these cases?" she asked.

"Do you want me to reassign the case?" Andrea questioned.

"Nope."

"So shut it and save this guy's arm," the Head of Trauma bit out. "Burke, you got this?"

"Yeah," Burke said. "I need to get him to surgery."

"OR Three should be clear all day," Andrea said, thinking about the surgical board she looked at this morning. "I'll make sure for you, give me two minutes."

Not waiting for his response, Andrea headed out of the room and rushed to the board. She didn’t even bother looking at the other rooms, only looking at OR Three to see it was, indeed, free. She quickly wrote down Burke and O'Malley along with Torres, before running back to them and letting them know the room is available for them.

"Can you handle without me?" she asked. "I want to check on the other guy."

"Go," Burke said shortly and Andrea all but ran out.

She looked around the ER, trying to determine to which room the patient was taken to when a hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped.

"Sorry," the owner of the hand said. "Didn’t mean to scare you. My name is SSA Aaron Hotchner, I believe one of my team members was sent here –"

"The guy who shot my guy," Andrea said. "Yeah, I was just about to check up on him."

"Your guy?" Hotchner repeated, confused.

"I took the guy who came in the first ambulance," Andrea explained. "AKA, my guy. Not anymore, though, I transferred him to Dr. Burke. I suppose you'd like info on both guys?"

"Uh, yes, if it's not –"

"No problem," Andrea said. "My guy is now going into surgery. I have Dr. Burke, our Head of Cardio, as his Attending in charge, and Dr. Torres from Ortho is going to attempt to save his hand. Do you have any contacts we can call?"

"His only living relative is his brother, who is now under arrest for committing the murders with him," Hotchner said.

" _Murders_?" Andrea repeated. "As in, plural? Wait, is this the guy who killed the three girls the past couple of weeks?"

"It is," Hotchner confirmed. "I'd very much appreciate it if you'd keep informing me about his situation, in addition to the status of my agent."

"No pro as long as you wait in the, you know, waiting room," Andrea said with a shrug. "My ER is crazy enough as it is even without federal agents wandering around. No offence," she added hurriedly.

"Your ER?" Hotchner repeated, for the second time in a single conversation confused about Andrea's use of pronouns.

"Did I forget to introduce myself?" Andrea asked. "I'm Dr. Reid, Head of Trauma."

"Oh," Hotchner said. "That's a coincidence. My agent's name is Reid, as well."

Andrea's eyes widened, and she stopped. The million little pieces that ran around in her head – which patient was in which room, which Operation Rooms were taken and which were clear, which Residents, Interns and Attending were on duty, on call, or about to arrive during her shift – stopped and faded away, leaving only one.

"Reid?" she repeated quietly. "Spencer Reid?"

"Uh, yeah," Hotchner said, confused. "Why –"

Andrea wasn’t listening anymore. Turning away from Agent Hotchner, she ran to Emergency Room 3 and burst through the doors.

"I need two doses of O-neg," she heard Bailey saying.

"A-positive," Andrea said, "Accurate match. I spoke to his boss," she shrugged the questioning look Bailey sent her way off.

"He looks a bit young to be a federal agent," Bailey commented.

"I'm a bit young to be Head of Trauma," Andrea retorted. "What have we got?"

"Apparently, just before he took down the other guy, your patient managed to shoot a chandelier which fell on him. We've got a large number of cuts and bruises, and two big pieces of glass in his back. I called Shepherd and Burke –"

"Burke's with mine," Andrea said, regretting the decision to give the best Cardio surgeon to the other patient.

"Then call someone else from Cardio," Bailey ordered, before turning back to her Attending. "Shepherd said there's no damage to his spine, and no severe head trauma."

"Thank god for small comforts," Andrea muttered.

"Amen to that," Bailey retorted. "We need to get him up to surgery."

"I'm joining you," Andrea said determinedly.

"No, you're not," Chief Webber's voice said from behind her. "Dr. Reid, come with me please."

"This patient is critical, they need all hands on board –"

"Dr. Reid, please step away from the patient," Webber ordered sharply.

"Sir, I need to –"

"What you _need_ to do," Webber said, "Is to step away from the patient and come with me."

"Dr. Reid?" Bailey asked. "Chief? What is this about?"

"Have you checked into your patient's medical files?" Webber questioned.

"Yes, of course," Bailey said. "There are no known allergies, I saw his medical history –"

"Did you see who his emergency contact was?" Webber questioned.

"I…" Bailey started. "Well, no –"

"Dr. Reid?" Webber asked, directing the same question to her.

"I need to look after him," Andrea said, her voice trembling. "I promised to look after him."

"Andrea," Webber said softly, "Please, come with me."

"I'm taking him to surgery," Bailey said. "He's in good hands. You know he is."

"I promised to take care of him," Andrea repeated, looking at Webber. "He's all I've got… I promised."

"I know you did," Webber said. "And you coming with me right now isn’t going to break that promise. Only reinforce it."

Andrea nodded, starting to walk out of the room before turning back to Bailey.

"I want updates on everything that's going on with him," she said sharply.

"Yang, you're in charge of giving Dr. Reid updates every thirty minutes sharp," Bailey said to one of her Interns.

"Thank you," Andrea whispered, finally allowing Webber to lead her out of the room.

* * *

"Doctor," Hotchner said as she entered the waiting room, standing up. "Are there any news?"

"Agent Reid –"

"Doctor," one of the other team members corrected. "Dr. Reid."

"I know he's a Doctor, I just think it would be less confusing if I call him Agent," Andrea bit out.

"She's a Dr. Reid, as well," Hotchner explained to his team.

"No family relations by chance?" a dark skinned man joked.

Andrea didn’t smile as she looked back at Agent Hotchner.

" _Dr._ Reid had just entered surgery," she said. "He's stable, last I checked, but still critical. In addition, a couple of glass pieces entered his back. Even though there is no damage to his spine, there is still concern for lung damage. We can't know for sure until we start the surgery."

"Will you be on it?" a black-haired team member questioned.

"No, I won't," Andrea said. "Dr. Bailey will perform on him, along with Chief Webber, as I am needed in the ER –"

"If the Chief can find time to operate on him, why can't you?" the dark skinned man questioned.

"I am needed in the ER," Andrea repeated. "After consulting with my fellows, we had decided they can manage the surgery without me, and –"

"Let someone else be in charge of the ER," the man said.

"Morgan," Hotchner said in a warning tone.

"Don’t 'Morgan' me, Hotch," Morgan said. "We heard that this is the best Trauma center in the area, because of you. If you're not giving my man the best chances he can get –"

"I can't operate on him because the Hospital's regulations forbid surgeons from taking part in operations on their family members, alright?" Andrea called out, losing her calm demeanor. "Trust me, I would very much rather be in there to make sure everything was going on as it should. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go to my ER and save lives in order to forget about the fact that my brother's in critical state. Someone will come to inform you about his situation in thirty minutes," she finished, turning around to leave.

She didn’t even make it to the door before a hand rested on her shoulder and, for the second time that day, she jumped.

"Sorry," the black haired woman said. "I didn’t mean to scare you."

"I don’t like it when people touch me without me knowing," Andrea muttered.

"Neither does Reid," the woman said with a smile. "Our Reid. I'm Emily Prentiss, by the way."

"Andrea Reid," Andrea introduced herself somewhat coldly. "Is there anything you want?"

"I just wanted to ask," Prentiss started, "The Doctors that you have working on Spencer… are they good?"

"Do you really think I'd let them operate on my brother if they weren’t?" Andrea bit out, turning around and leaving the woman behind her speechless.


	3. My Name is Teddy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Name is Teddy:
> 
> Harry Potter. Time Travel. Background Remadora. After a fight with Harry, a Time-Turner accident sends Teddy Lupin back to his Godfather’s third year at Hogwarts. In order to help him fit into the timeline until they find a way to send him back, Dumbledore suggests an idea - Teddy could pretend to be the son of the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Remus Lupin.
> 
> Fanfiction Challenge: Every chapter is exactly a thousand words.

Sirius Black looked up from where he stood at the kitchen of number 12, Grimmauld Place. He just heard a sound coming from the hallway and despite the fact that he knew it was probably Kreacher, he still felt the need to go and check.

He was using the place as his base for the past couple of weeks, since Harry had arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He would leave it for most of the day and sit in his dog form outside the bar, hoping to get a glimpse of his godson.

So far he had none such luck, but in three days the new school term was about to start. He had hoped that at least at Hogwarts he would have more chance of seeing him, and perhaps he would also have more luck with tracking down Peter.

In the meanwhile, though, he opened the kitchen door and looked into the hallway, expecting to see it empty or, at least, the grumpy old house elf sitting there and muttering to himself. What he did _not_ expect to see was a terrified looking teenager with white hair.

The teenager looked at one of the shelves in disbelief and fear, his eyes widening and his breath hitching in his throat.

"No," he muttered. "No, no, no, no, no."

"Who are you?" Sirius asked hoarsely, causing the teenager to jump in fear and pull out his wand, pointing it at him. Sirius raised his hands in the air, as if to signal surrender. "Easy there," he said. "You might take someone's eye out."

The kid looked positively horrified but the hand that held the wand was stable and didn’t waver.

"What's the date?" the teenager asked.

"August 28th, 1993," Sirius told him.

"You're Sirius Black," he said, almost as if he wasn’t believing it himself.

"I am," Sirius admitted, not seeing the point at lying.

The boy may have been twenty years his younger but at the moment he had a wand while Sirius didn’t. He wasn’t going to try and smarten his way out of this. He didn’t expect that at the sound of the words, the boy would look even more terrified, if that was possible.

"I'm not guilty," he said quickly, attempting to calm him down. "I know what the papers say but I'm innocent. You have to believe me."

"I do," the boy muttered. "My… My Godfather always said you weren’t given a trial."

"Your Godfather is a very wise man," Sirius said. "Does he know that you are here?"

"I don’t think so," the boy said, his voice trembling but his wand hand surprisingly steady for a scared thirteen year old. Sirius could almost see the way the kid was processing information, trying to understand whether his Godfather knew anything. "I'm pretty sure he doesn’t."

"Do you think he noticed you were gone?" Sirius questioned.

"Not straight away," the teenager replied. "I was just screaming at him and I slammed the door. It would probably take him half an hour to notice I'm not there."

"That means we have half an hour to get you home," Sirius said. "How can we get there?"

The boy's entire body shook by then, but his wand was pointed directly at Sirius.

"I don’t know," he admitted and Sirius sighed.

"Okay," he said hastily, "how did you get here?"

"I don’t know," the boy repeated, his hair turning even whiter, if that was possible.

"Kid, you’ve got to help me here," Sirius said. "What did you do right before you got here?"

"I slammed the door," he repeated. "That's all I did. I slammed the door and then I was here."

_This can't be good,_ Sirius thought to himself.

"Do you know where we might be able to find your Godfather?"

"I don’t know."

"Do you know if you might have broken anything that could have brought you here?"

"Maybe," the kid was on the verge of tears. "I don’t know."

"Who else have you got other than your Godfather?" Sirius asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"His wife," the boy said, "and her family and… and my Grandma."

"Where can we find them?"

"I don’t know, alright?" the kid called. "I don’t know where I am, I don’t know how I got here, I don’t know where my family is and even if I did, I don’t know how to get back to them!"

Sirius took a closer look at the boy. Up until this point, he hadn’t noticed the ends of his hair were red, contradicting the whiteness of the rest of the hair. Then again, up to this point he was looking at the wand the kid was holding, rather than his hair.

"Calm down," Sirius instructed. "Take a deep breath. In… and out… better?"

"Yes," the boy said. "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Don’t mention it," Sirius said. "You're scared and distressed, in the hall of an unfamiliar house with an escaped convict."

"Never convicted," the teenager muttered and Sirius smiled.

"Did I say I like your Godfather already?" he asked. "Let's go to the kitchen and drink something. You drink Firewhiskey?"

The boy looked at him with disbelief. "I'm thirteen."

"I drank it when I was younger," Sirius shrugged. "Butterbeer, then?"

"Yes, please," the boy said.

They walked back into the kitchen and Sirius pulled out two Butterbeers before looking at the kid again. The ends of his hair were a deep blue now.

"So you don’t know anything that might help us get you back home?" Sirius asked and the boy shook his head, tears in his eyes. "So let's start with something simpler. What's your name?"

At the sound of the question, the boy burst into uncontrollable tears. Sirius put down his bottle and neared him, holding him in a hug.

_How long was it since the last time I had physical contact?_ He wondered. _Too long._

"Teddy," the boy said, holding on to him and crying. "My name is Teddy."


	4. The Godmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Godmother:
> 
> Harry Potter, Original Female Character/Severus Snape. Hiding underneath the table at the Three Broomsticks in his third year, Harry finds out more than just that Sirius is his Godfather. He finds out he has a Godmother, as well. Warnings: Torture, Mentions of Non-Con.

"You know, Cornelius," Professor Flitwick said, "if you're dining with the Headmaster, we'd better head back to the castle."

"You go ahead," Professor McGonagall said. "I'm meeting here with someone."

The other adults took their leave and Harry had to stiffen a groan. He didn’t want to stay here any longer – he regretted sneaking into Hogsmeade in the first place. All he wanted to do now was go back to the castle and think about all he just heard about his Godfather, the mass murderer, Sirius Black.

But he couldn’t come out from underneath the table until McGonagall left.

"Professor," a friendly voice said, as if reading his thoughts. "It's been too long."

"And whose fault is that?" McGonagall asked sternly, though unmistakable fondness was evident in her tone. "And, dear, it's due time you started calling me Minerva."

"Sorry," the woman said. "Force of habit."

"Never mind that, now. Come – sit down."

The foreign woman stepped into Harry's view. She seemed to be in her mid-thirties, her posture high and her face beaming, though unable to hide the worry lines on her forehead. She wore clothes that travelled on the edge between Muggle and Magic – long and official enough so that nobody in Hogsmeade would look at her oddly, but casual enough to go through London streets in.

She ran a hand through her spiky auburn hair before doing as the old Professor told her to and sitting down opposite of hers. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought McGonagall reached out and grabbed her hand.

"Where are you staying?" McGonagall asked.

"At Uncle Ab's," the woman replied. "Down the street. It's nice there and I think that – even though he'll never admit it – he likes the company. Better than having only goats around, all day."

"And how are you coping?"

"I'm fine."

McGonagall huffed. "Do not lie to me, Anastasia."

Despite being unable to see her, Harry was certain that the woman frowned. "It's _Anna_ ," she said, clearly annoyed. "And drop the scolding professor voice."

"Well, drop the façade!" McGonagall retorted. "I know you're not fine. If you were fine, you wouldn’t have returned after twelve years."

"Well, I had to do _something_!" Anna said. "Now that Sirius has escaped… I need to feel like I'm doing something. Like I'm not dishonoring Lily and James' memory, as I did until now."

Lily and James. _The_ Lily and James? Harry's parents?

He wasn’t sure if he wanted to know. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to find out more information that was withheld from him – not sure if he wanted to discover yet another old friend of his parents that nobody thought they should mention.

But, being grounded to underneath the table until the two women departure, he didn’t seem to have much of a choice on the matter.

"Have you talked to him?" McGonagall asked softly. "Maybe if you approached him –"

"And said what?" Anna questioned. "Hi there, Harry, I'm your Godmother, but because of decisions I have made before you were even born and decisions other people made when you were a year old, I'm not allowed to care for you?"

Harry felt like his heart rate just escalated so much that it had stopped. Did she just say _Godmother_?

"Besides, I'm not allowed to try and contact him," Anna sighed. "The Wizengamot was very clear about it. If he attempts to find me, it's all good, but I legally can't talk to him, otherwise."

"So what are you doing?"

"I'm staying here at Hogsmeade and trying to keep an eye on him the best I can do from afar," Anastasia replied. "It's the least I can do."

"Well, you know that if you ever need anything, I'm here for you," McGonagall reassured her.

"I know," Anna said. "Thank you, Minerva."

"I should head back," McGonagall said. "It will be getting dark soon and I need to make sure all of the students are back at the castle. Thank you for meeting with me," she added, getting up and walking with Anna towards the door.

"No problem," Anna said, following her outside.

Ron and Hermione peeked underneath the table to look at Harry, who felt like his head was going to explode.

_What in Merlin's name happened today?_

* * *

Anastasia walked through the corridors of Hogwarts castle, smiling at the memories the place brought to her. For most students, this place was like a second home. For her, it was the only home.

Now, back in the place she grew up in, she found herself pondering over the experiences she had gone through in this place. Passing through a window, she saw the spot by the Black Lake where the incident that changed everything for her two best friends occurred. Coincidentally, she was on her way to meet another person who were there at the time.

"Anna," Remus Lupin said with a smile as he opened the door, allowing her to come in. "How are you?"

"Had my worse," she shrugged, reaching out and taking his hand in hers. "How are you?"

"As good as I can be, considering the circumstances," he replied. "A bit sore."

"Just a couple of days and it will all get better," she told him.

"At least until next month," he said grimly. "But, that's not why you're here today."

"I came to see how you are," Anna said. "How is that not why I'm here?"

"Because I don’t really care why you think you're here," Remus replied. "It's the 25th, and I won't ignore it."

"Oh, Remus," she sighed as he handed her a small package. "I didn’t get you anything for Christmas…"

"Lucky it's not a Christmas present, then," he replied. "Now open it up."

"For your birthday," she muttered, "I'm going to put posters all over the room saying, 'Remus John Lupin is 34.' Just so that you'll feel old."

"Shut up and open the present," he laughed, and she did.

Inside, she saw a small black notebook. She turned her gaze at Remus' direction, and as the werewolf marked his head towards it, she opened it to see pictures in almost every page.

"Remus," she sighed.

"I gave most of my pictures to Hagrid when he made Harry his picture book," he said. "And by knowing you, you probably gave him all the pictures you had."

She looked through the pictures – most of them from the Marauders' time at Hogwarts, but some from after graduation and a few with baby Harry. Eventually, she reached empty pages and looked up again, confused.

"You can add more pictures in here," Remus explained. "After you contact Harry again."

"You know I can't," she said bitterly. "I'm not allowed to contact him."

"So after he will contact you," he retorted. "It will happen. People can't keep you hidden from him forever."

"They managed so far," Anna sighed, closing the notebook and looking at her old friend. "How is Harry?"

"He's very bright," Remus replied. "Got a lot of Lily in him, but he looks just like James."

"And… is he…"

Remus smiled softly. "He's fine," he said. "The Dementors are doing quite a number on him, apparently, but I promised to teach him after Christmas."

"If anyone could make a Patronus at thirteen, it would be Lily's kid," Anna laughed. "I should go now," she added. "I suppose you have quite some work to catch up on."

"I have quite some sleep to catch up on," he replied with a laugh. "I hope I'll see you around."

"Like you could get away from me," she smirked, leaving his chambers.

Once at the hall, the smile drifted away from her face. She took a deep breath to calm herself down, reminding herself that he was alright, and that she was doing everything to keep him safe. To keep Harry safe.

"Er… Miss?"

Her head darted up to the sound of the voice, blue eyes meeting green as her breath hitched in her throat. _It couldn’t be…_

"You're Anastasia, right?" the miniature version of James Potter, combined with Lily's eyes, asked.

"Anna," she corrected immediately, before realizing how she just sounded. "Call me… call me Anna."

"Anna," Harry repeated. "I'm sorry for… for sneaking up on you, but I wanted to talk to you." She nodded, unable to talk, as Harry seemed to gain a bit more security of his actions. "I was… I heard that… that you're my…"

"Godmother," she finished. "I'm your Godmother."

Tears threatened to rise in her eyes and she forced them back, not wanting to burst into tears in front of the young boy she should have spent the last twelve years protecting.

"Er… yeah," Harry said. "I just… I don’t really know why I came here."

"It's alright," she whispered. "I understand if you don’t want to see me."

"What?" he asked. "Why wouldn’t I want to see you?"

"Because… because I…" _Because I left you. Because I should have fought harder for you. Because I shouldn’t have let the Wizengamot and the Headmaster take you away from me and place you with Lily's family._

"I want to get to know you," Harry said. "I… I suppose you were friends with my parents, and I guess I just… I wanted to…"

Anastasia hesitated, taken aback from his stutter. She didn’t know where he had gotten this trait from, but she was certain it was neither James' nor Lily's.

"Would you…" she stopped, trying to build up the courage to talk to him. "Would you like me to tell you about them?"

"I understand if you don’t want to talk about it," he quickly said. "I… I guess that's why nobody else talks to me about them."

"How about you come back to Hogsmeade with me?" Anna suggested. "We can sit somewhere and talk. I stay at The Hog's Head, but we could go to The Three Broomsticks if you'd like –"

"I can't," Harry said bitterly. "My aunt and uncle didn’t sign the Hogsmeade form, and everyone says it's probably for the best, with the whole Sirius Black issue."

"Technically, I am your guardian," Anna replied. "As long as you're with me, there should be no problem and, besides, the Headmaster won't say no to me."

Harry's eyes lit with excitement. "Really?" he asked. "I – I'll go grab my cloak! I'll –"

"See you in fifteen minutes at the Entrance Hall?" she asked, amused.

"Yes!" Harry called, running towards Gryffindor tower.

Anastasia positively beamed, casting a Patronus without blinking.

"Harry talked to me," she told the flock of bats. "I'm taking him to Hogsmeade."

The bats flew away, half of them flying towards the Headmaster's Office, while the other half headed towards the Forbidden Forest. Feeling like this was all a part of a dream, she all but skipped her way to the Kitchens, not for a moment forgetting the promise she made as she asked the House Elves for everything that could fit into her messenger's bag.

As they ran around her, bringing her more and more food, Anna couldn’t but remember a time when she was not that much older than Harry was, a fourth year at Hogwarts, and she came into the kitchens to see four second years sitting right where she was right now.

_"Hullo," she said as she walked into the big room, not even remotely bothered by the small creatures that were running at her feet._

_"Should I bring Missy Anna her regular?" asked a small Elf at her feet._

_"If it's not too much of a bother, Giddy," she replied kindly, and the Elf ran off. She raised her head to look at the four boys. "Hullo," she greeted again._

_"Er…" a boy with glasses and messy black hair said. "Hi?"_

_"Shouldn’t you four be in bed this late at night?" she questioned._

_"Shouldn’t you?" retorted another, with black hair and grey eyes._

_"I suppose it all comes down to whether or not you are caught," Anna mused. "And I'm never caught."_

_"Everybody gets caught sometimes," mumbled the boy with the glasses. "How did you even know where to find this place?"_

_"Please," she drawled. "I know my way to the kitchens since before I could talk." Her eyes rammed across them, noting their features and seeming to recognize them as being two years younger than her. "Probably since before you were even born."_

_"You're Anastasia," a lanky boy with sandy blonde hair stated._

_"Great observation, though it's Anna," she replied, muttering a quick thank you to Giddy as he handed her a cup filled with steaming hot chocolate. "And you are?"_

_"Remus Lupin," he replied._

_"James Potter," the boy with the glasses stated proudly._

_"Sirius Black," said the grey-eyed boy._

_"P- Peter Pettigrew," stuttered the fourth boy, who was silent up until now._

_Anna passed her gaze across the four of them before coming to a halt looking into Potter's hazel eyes. "You're the one who keeps proposing Lily."_

_"You're the one who hangs around with Sni–" He paused as he saw the murderous glare she was sending him. "Er… Snape."_

_"Well, who am I supposed to hang out with?" she questioned. "The boys in my class are a bunch of idiots, and the girls – Greengrass is quite nice and Black – Narcissa – can pass as bearable, but the two of them hangs out with Parkinson, and she's insufferable."_

_"Well, it's your fault that you ended up in Slytherin, from what I've heard," Black snapped._

_"Tell that to Merlin," Anna mused, smiling at the look of shock on three out of the four boys' faces._

_"Merlin was a Slytherin?" Pettigrew asked._

_"Ambition can lead you to good places, as well," Lupin said. "It all depends on where you take it."_

_"Couldn’t phrase it better myself," Anna said with a smile. "So, how did the four of you found this place?"_

_"Peter fell and hit the portrait," Potter shrugged._

_"Well, that's one way to go at it," Anna said. "Usually, I just tickle the pair."_

_Black let out a loud, bark-like laugh that caused several House Elves to jump in fear, and his friends to snicker._

_"Well, we should get going," Anna said, finishing her drink and looking at her watch. "The professors are heading back to their rooms by now, but Filch is starting his sweep in half an hour, and that cat of his always freaked me out."_

_"Hope we’d see you around," Black said. "You're not so bad for a Slytherin."_

_"You're not so bad for a Black," she replied, walking out of the door without another glance at their direction._


	5. Familial Relations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Familial Relations:
> 
> Marvel Cinematic Universe + Harry Potter. After the war, Hermione goes through her parents' belongings when she finds adoption papers from nineteen years ago. Following the information presented in them, she finds herself in America, meeting the brother she never knew she had and forever changing their lives in the process.

Hermione fidgeted nervously as she approached the front desk. She found it odd, absurd even - logically, she knew she had nothing to be nervous about.

Unfortunately, logic rarely had anything to do with how she felt.

She glanced at her watch, checking the time once again. She was early, she knew that she arrived more than twenty minutes too early, but sitting at her hotel room and waiting for the time to pass drove her crazy.

Not that being here didn’t, but that was for entirely different reasons. So soon after the War, she didn’t like being in a room full of people, and couldn’t help but keep checking over her shoulder.

She may be paranoid, but a year on the run could do that to you. _Nine months,_ a small voice in her head corrected before she shut it up. It felt like nine years.

Taking a deep breath, she walked the remaining couple of steps to the desk and waited patiently for the secretary to notice her presence.

"Yes?" the young woman asked, looking up from fixing her bright focaccia painted nails.

"Hermione Granger," Hermione supplied. "I have a one o'clock meeting with Mr. Stark."

"It's only twelve-thirty-five," the secretary said, and Hermione had to force herself not to reply snidely to that comment.

"Yes," she found herself saying instead, a calm to her voice that surprised her. "I'm well aware of that."

"Wait here and someone will call you when you need to go up," the secretary said, going back to fixing her nails.

Hermione sighed to herself, feeling less and less confident as she walked towards the waiting area and sat down. This was starting to feel more and more like a bad idea as time went by. She thought back to the envelope in her bag, and the information within it.

After the War was over, and the spirits calmed down enough, Hermione went back to the storage unit where she kept everything from her parents' old house that had any mention of her. Memories were easy to wipe, but hard copies remained untouched and she didn’t want to throw away all of her childhood pictures.

A simple _Accio_ did the trick at the time, but she didn’t really look through everything the spell sent her way, rather placed it all in boxes and locked it in a storage unit, hoping that someday she'll be able to go back and find it.

When the day came, she started going through every piece of paper, every old photo, every leaflet of the ballet seminars from her childhood years and the universities her parents insisted she'll consider during her later years at Hogwarts.

It was then, at the bottom of one of the boxes, that she found the envelope. There was no writing on it, no identification of any kind to what may be inside it. She looked it over, noticing that it looked like nobody had even touched it in over a decade – more than likely because that was the case. She read through its contents, and everything she thought she knew about herself came crashing down.

It took a couple of weeks to arrange everything after that. Getting her visa for the United States – both the Magical and the Muggle ones – was, much to her surprise, the least problematic part. Setting up a meeting with Tony Stark was harder, by not by much. Telling her friends that she was leaving… well, that was an entirely different thing.

"Wizarding Britain is still healing," they told her. It needed her there, just like it needed Ron and Harry. They were the symbols of everything they fought for. They were the ones who had, at long last, took Voldemort down.

"I'm healing, too," she replied. She needed to figure out who she was and what her life meant now that Voldemort was finally out of the picture. She was fighting for so long that she wasn’t sure she knew what to do now that he was gone.

But she knew one thing: if she was to stay in Britain and help the public as they licked their wounds, hers would remain wide open and bleeding.

Her decision caused a slight tear between her and her best friends.

Ron had outright accused her of being inconsiderate, as it was clear to both of them that the decision to move to the United States for the next three months would mean the death of their relationship. He was angry at first, but as it subsided and they started talking about it, he admitted he was mostly hurt. They both knew they couldn’t promise anything for the coming months regarding their relationship, but they agreed that no matter what, they will at least try to remain friends.

With Harry, things were both simpler and by far more difficult. He understood her reasons, understood why she was so persistent on going to America as soon as possible. It didn’t mean he agreed with the choice she made. But, then again, that was Harry. Always putting others before himself – whether it be his friends, his comrades, or the entire Wizarding population. Nevertheless, he escorted her to the airplane and saw her as she took off, flying halfway around the world.

Now, three days after she arrived to California and close to two months after she first found the envelope, the day of her meeting has finally arrived.

"Miss Granger?"

Hermione was torn out of her thought by the sound of a man calling her name. She looked up, her eyes darting around for a couple of moments before finding the man who spoke.

"Y-Yes?" she asked nervously.

"If you please come, Mr. Stark is awaiting your arrival."

"Yes, of course," Hermione said, picking up her bag and following the man to the elevator. It felt like an eternity before the elevator stopped at the second floor, and Hermione was slowly losing her mind as they walked the short distance to the office.

"Your one o'clock meeting is here, sir," the man said as he opened the door. "Hermione Granger," he added shortly before moving aside to allow Hermione to walk in.

She swallowed hard as she did, entering the fancy-looking office and sitting at the only available chair, right across from the man she was here to meet.

"Hermione," he said as the door closed behind her back. "What a… unique name."

"Thank you," Hermione said politely. "Shall we get to business, then?"

"What's the hurry?" Stark asked. "We have the entire hour to ourselves, and I doubt it will take that long since you're not one of those boring business people. Your choice of clothes isn’t nearly as elegant as theirs," he explained at her confused look, making her blush and avert her eyes.

"Do you usually start conversations by insulting the person you're talking to?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he shrugged. "Some chicks dig it."

"I have no interest in jumping into your bed, Mr. Stark," Hermione said through gritted teeth.

"A lot say that at first," Stark replied, giving her a smirk she was certain made many women weak on the knees. "Just give it a bit of time."

Hermione was so immensely grateful she wasn’t one of those many women.

"Here," she said curtly, passing him the envelope. "Please look through this before you make any more attempts to get me in your bed, before I'll not be able to hold myself from getting sick on your carpet."

"If you insist," Stark said, still wearing that insufferable smirk of his. "We could always pick up where we left."

"I doubt it," Hermione muttered, sitting impatiently as he read through the papers before glancing up to look at him.

She didn’t think there was ever a more satisfying look than that unbearable smirk sliding off his face. He looked at the papers once, and then again, as if making sure he read correctly the first time. Now, that was an emotion she could feel she related to, as she did just the same when she first came upon the papers. He then proceeded to look at the paper closely, undoubtedly making sure it wasn’t a fake of some kind.

It took a couple of minutes before he was done but when he was, he leaned back in his chair and looked at her.

"Who's Michelle Jones?" he asked.

"Not a clue," Hermione replied. "I never met her in my life – at least, not that I remember. I did, however, ask for a favor from a friend to check up what results her name would bring. She died. No living relatives. A dead end." She paused for a moment before adding, "I'm certain you recognize the other name."

"Yeah, you could say that," Stark bit out, glancing at the papers again. "So I suppose that is why you arrived here."

"You're his only living relative."

"Right," Stark huffed. "So, I'm guessing that you want money? How much? Could it be written on a check, or do I need to arrange something more than that?"

"I didn’t come here for money," Hermione said, offended at the suggestion.

"Right," Stark said in disbelief. "You came all the way across the world just to give me these papers and then walk away?"

"No," Hermione replied. "I came all the way here to get to know you."

"And I'm just supposed to believe that?"

"I was raised by Jean and Andrew Granger," Hermione said. "They were dentists, who ran a successful private clinic. They were declared missing during the terrorist attacks that occurred in Britain in the past two years, and I had inherited a great amount of their money." That's without mentioning the more than sustainable amount in her Gringotts vault, curtesy of the compensations she received from the Ministry and her Order of Merlin award. "If I wanted nothing but money I wouldn’t have bothered to fly halfway across the globe," she added. "I would have simply sent the documents with a letter of the price of my silence."

"Shares of the company, then?" Stark inquired.

"Is it really that hard to believe I have no ulterior motives?" Hermione asked.

"Yes," Stark said simply. "Everyone has ulterior motives, I don’t see any reason why you would be any different."

"Okay," Hermione said. "Fine. Yes, I do have ulterior motives." A victorious glint appeared in Stark's eyes, but it disappeared as soon as Hermione resumed talking. "My parents are missing and presumed dead. They were both only children and my grandparents died when I was almost too young to remember. I have no other siblings. So when I found out that not only has my entire life been a lie and I am adopted, but that I have a brother, I wanted to get to know you."

It was only partly a lie. The only part where she wasn’t completely honest with him was the part about her parents. In truth, she simply couldn’t find them. She spent the past two months searching with everything she had, but Wendell and Monica Winkers were nowhere to be found.

She didn’t know if they were dead or alive. She didn’t know if they were happy or suffering. So when so opened the envelope two months ago to see adoption papers that held the names of her birth parents, she set out looking for them. Her mother turned out to be a dead end, just as she told Stark. But her father…

The name Howard Stark was more than well-known across the world – has been for years. She knew he had passed away in 1991. But she also knew he had a son, an heir, and that he was still alive, so she set out to see him.

It was only now that she realized how naïve she had been, thinking he'd think the same as she did.

"I think it would be best if I left now," she said, picking up the envelope from where it waited on the table and placing it in her bag. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Stark, but…" she trailed off, turning to the door.

"Wait." There was no emotion in Stark's voice, and Hermione was reluctant to listen to it. But her hesitation was all Stark needed to keep talking. "Stay."

"Why?" Hermione asked, fighting to keep the tears from her voice. "I think you've made it more than clear than you have no more desire to get to know me than I have to stay here and hear you accusing me of greediness."

"Be it that way or another, we are still family," Stark replied. "You know… apparently. How long will you be staying in America?"

"My visa is for three months," Hermione replied. "After that, I planned to go back to England."

"Visa?" Stark repeated. "You do know you have birthright citizenship, right?"

"Howard Stark may have been my biological father, but my parents were the Grangers," Hermione said. "I was raised in England, my friends live there and I have… other obligations there. I see no reason to stay here."

"I have three months to convince you otherwise, then, don’t I?" Stark asked, that annoying smirk back on his face. "If you'd like to, we could start getting to know each other. After all, it's not every day that I find out I have an annoying little sister."

"You hardly even know me," Hermione said. "How can you tell if I'm annoying or not?"

"Well, for one, you're a little sister," Stark shrugged. "I think annoying is a build-in part of the job description. And, besides," he added before Hermione could protest the assumption, "anyone stubborn enough to travel to a different continent just on the off chance that a complete stranger would trust them is bound to be annoying at some level."

As hard as she tried, Hermione couldn’t avoid the smile that jumped to her lips. "You're unbelievable," she told him.

"Thanks," Stark replied. "I worked very hard to get there. Am I right to assume you're renting a room at a hotel?" Hermione nodded and Stark sighed. "Well, that just won't do. I'll send someone to collect you, you'll be moving with me to Stark Mansion."

Hermione stared at him in disbelief. "Not five minutes ago, you were accusing me of wanting money and shares of the company, and now you're inviting me into your house?"

"Not inviting," Stark corrected. "More demanding. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer."

"I'm not your enemy," Hermione told him.

"I'll be the judge of that," he replied. "Don't get me wrong, it will be a most pleasant surprise if it turns out to be true. But, like we both said more than once, I barely know you. I have no reason to believe you. So," he said, smiling at her. "You have three months to convince me it's true, and I have three months to convince you to stay if it is true. A car will be sent to your hotel at six o'clock," he added. "I believe that will be enough time to collect your belongings?"

"Don’t you need the name of the hotel I'm staying in?" Hermione asked.

"No, I'm good," Stark replied. "I'll see you tonight."

"See you tonight," Hermione said, rolling her eyes as she left, this time uninterrupted.

Tony watched the young woman who was apparently his little sister as she left before looking up at the ceiling. "JARVIS?" he said. "Could you please get me any information you can find on Hermione Granger? School records, bank account, anything that has as much of a mention of her name on it, I want it."

"Yes, Sir," the AI replied. "Would you like further information on her adoptive parents, as well?"

"Just the police records of their disappearance," Tony replied.

"Understood, Sir," JARVIS said. "The information should be available in your computer in just a couple of minutes."

"I really need to find a way to make that easier to view," Tony muttered as he looked through the files on his computer. "Remind me to think of possible solutions later. For now…" He opened the first file, the one that held the most basic information about Hermione Granger. "Let's see who you really are."


	6. Bleeding Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bleeding Out:
> 
> Marvel Cinematic Universe + Harry Potter. Hermione Granger/Loki. A century apart for a lifetime together - that was the deal to save her life. But little did Loki know, this century will be the most important one of his life, and when it was done… she might not be able to forgive him.

**"I'm bleeding out**  
**So if the last thing that I do**  
**Is bring you down**  
**I'll bleed out for you**  
**So I bare my skin**  
**And I count my sins**  
**And I close my eyes**  
**And I take it in**  
**I'm bleeding out**  
**I'm bleeding out for you, for you."**  
  
**_Bleeding Out, Imagine Dragons._**

_"She cannot be cured," the Healer said. "Her injuries… she has mere hours left, at best."_

_"No," the green eyed man whispered from where he sat next to her bed. "No!"_

_"Brother," a man with blue eyes and blond hair said from where he stood next to him. "They did everything they could, but we knew right from the start it was a long shot. The curse that was cast on her is very powerful, and it had years to attach itself to her body."_

_"Then get her out of her body!" the other man called out. "Her core is intact, it's healthy, and strong, and I refuse to let her die just because of something that had happened centuries ago!"_

_"_ Min prins _," a soft voice whispered, and the two men turned to look at the woman lying on the bed, her breaths ragged. "Please…"_

_"Shhh," green eyes looked into brown, fear evident in them. "Save your strength."_

_"We always knew this day would come," she replied. "I never expected to live as long as I have. And I am lucky to have had you in these years."_

_"Don't speak like that," the man said. "There must be something we can do. I'll ask the Allfather, I'll talk to Heimdall –"_

_"How many years have you been searching?" she asked. "How many books have you scouted in your search for a cure?"_

_"You know how many," he said._

_"I do," she admitted. "But I need to hear you say it."_

_The man took a deep breath, his voice hoarse with tears as he spoke once more. "I have searched all of the Libraries in Asgard," he said. "I have been searching for decades."_

_"There is nothing more you can do," the woman said. "Nothing more anybody can do. Please… I don’t want to spend my last hours here, alone, while you are off to an impossible mission. I want to spend them with you."_

_"Brother…" the blond haired man started slowly. "Please, do as she says. I fear that if you will not, both of you will hurt more."_

_"No," the green eyed man whispered, running a hand through pitch-black curls._

_"_ Min prins _…"_

_"I said no!" he called out, standing up and heading towards the exit._

_"Where are you going?" his brother asked._

_"I'll talk to the Allfather," the man replied. "He will have a solution. I refuse to give up."_

_"Loki…" the woman whispered. "Please, stay. I don’t want to go through this alone."_

_"Think of her, brother," the blond haired man said. "If not for anything else, do this for Hermione."_

_"This is what you don’t understand, brother," Loki replied. "I already am doing this for her."_

_"Loki…" Hermione whispered as he walked away. "Loki, please…"_

_"He is gone," Thor informed her sadly._

_"Could you please bring him back?" Hermione asked. "I don’t… I don’t want to be alone when…"_

_"You silly woman," Thor whispered, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. "You don’t have to always be brave, you know."_

_"Yes, I do," she replied. "Because right now, he's just as scared as I am. And, Thor… I am very scared."_

_"I'll bring him back," Thor promised, before turning to the Healer. "Make sure she is safe and not in pain."_

_The Healer nodded with a small bow and Thor rushed out of the room, leaving her alone with Hermione. She gently wiped sweat off the young Goddess' brow, and frowned at her glazed eyes._

_"Loki…" Hermione whispered, lost in a realm of her own mind, unaware of anything that was happening around her. "Loki…"_

_The Healer took a deep breath, wiping away a tear of her own before locking all of her emotions at the back of her mind. Having been Hermione's personal Healer for centuries, she knew this day would come and thought she will be ready when it did._

_Up until now, she couldn’t have even imagined how wrong she was._

* * *

_"You have to do something!" Loki called out, tears marking his face. "You can't just let her die!"_

_"There is nothing we can do," Odin said, unsure of how to comfort his son. "The curse is too strong –"_

_"Her core is safe from the curse!" Loki replied. "If her body can't heal, give her a new one!"_

_"It's not that simple –"_

_"But it had been done before –"_

_"At a great price," Odin said. "And with great difficulties."_

_"But it is not impossible," Loki said. "Please, Father. I would do anything for her."_

_"Loki!" Thor's voice carried around the hall as he walked in. "Please, go back to the Infirmary. Lady Hermione needs you with her."_

_"Lady Hermione needs a cure," Loki corrected. "And I will not rest until I find one."_

_"Father," Thor said, looking away from his brother and at Odin. "Make him see sense –"_

_"There is still more we can do!"_

_"Is there?" Thor questioned. "We always knew this day would come."_

_"I refuse to accept it," Loki replied. "Father, please. Please, if there's anything we can do…"_

_Odin hesitated a moment before nearing his younger son. "How far are you willing to go for her?" he asked._

_"Father, you can't be –"_

_"How far?" Odin asked again, ignoring Thor._

_"As far as it takes," Loki whispered. "I would go to the end of the Seven Realms and back, if it meant saving her. I would give my own life for hers."_

_"And what life would she have without you, brother?" Thor questioned._

_"Better than the life I would have without her," Loki replied, looking up at the Allfather. "Is there anything we can do?"_

_"There might be," Odin admitted. "But it is very dangerous, and might not even work at all."_

_"I'm willing to try."_

_"Even if it will work, you won't be seeing her for a while," Odin said. "She will have no memory of you for several decades, she won't even know the truth about who she is."_

_"Father, what are you suggesting?" Thor questioned._

_"There is a way to make Hermione mortal," Odin replied. "She will live a single lifetime as a Midgardian, and when she dies she will return here in her new body."_

_"She will be free of the curse," Loki said in understanding._

_"But not of hardships," Odin warned. "The average lifespan of a Midgardian is about a hundred years, and she will be anything but average."_

_"Do it," Loki said. "If it saves her, do it."_

_"She'll still have memories of her time as a mortal when she'll return, Loki," Odin warned. "She won't be the same."_

_"I don’t care," Loki replied. "I'd rather have her alive yet not mine than watch her die and know I could do something about it."_

_"Are you sure?" Odin questioned. "Because if you have even the hint of a doubt, this will not work."_

_"I am certain."_

_Odin nodded, turning back to his eldest. "How much longer did the Healer say Lady Hermione have?" he questioned._

_"Hours at the most," Thor replied. "Father, if you are suggesting what I think you are –"_

_"I am," Odin said. "We will need some items…"_

_"I'll take care of it," Loki said. "What do we need?"_

_"An object of Hermione's to connect her to, in order to make sure she returns here when it is all over," Odin said. "Several Midgardian stones, a nightgown made purely of Voile and a bath of untouched stone filled with water to its end."_

_"There's a bath like this in the small inner garden," Thor said. "It may not be filled with water, but that can be easily fixed."_

_"And I still have several of the stones you brought last time you went to Midgard," Loki said. "All that there is left is the nightgown and an object."_

_"I'll get the nightgown," Thor told his brother. "I think it will be best if you were the one finding the object."_

_"Remember," Odin said, "It has to be something she is connected to, or it will not be strong enough to tie her to, and she'll become permanently mortal."_

_"I know," Loki said. "I have something in mind."_

_As his brother all but ran out of the room, Thor turned to look at his father._

_"Are you sure it will work?" he asked._

_"No," the Allfather admitted. "But Loki will never forgive us – or himself – if we don’t try."_

_"I know," Thor sighed. "But I fear that if we will try… she might not forgive him."_

_"Yes," Odin nodded. "But she'll have to be alive to do so."_

* * *

_Hermione wasn’t sure what was real anymore and what was merely the creation of her imagination. She knew she changed her clothes and thought she might have been moved, but that made no sense in her mind._

_She was dying, that much was clear to her. And since she was just a babe – only a couple of decades old – she knew that her time will come sooner than it will for other Asgardians her age, and that when it will, she will be at the Infirmary._

_When she grew up, she had hoped that Loki will be there with her, but after watching him leave her some time ago, that hope was lost. How long has it been? It could have been months, for all she knew, but that made no sense since her Healer said she only had hours left._

_Oh, how she wanted him there with her._

_"_ Min elskede _," a voice whispered in her ear and Hermione had to fight the urge to laugh._

_Of course she only had to think of Loki to hear his voice, to hear the name only he called her. She didn’t know if it was only a creation of her memory. At this point, she didn’t care anymore._

_"_ Min prins _," she whispered back. "You're here."_

_"Of course I am," Loki replied, blinking back tears. "Hermione… we're going to try something that might save you. I'm sorry, but it's going to hurt. You'll need to be strong."_

_"I'm always strong for you," she replied. "I'll be anything for you."_

_"And I for you," he replied, looking up as the Allfather finished the last arrangements for the ceremony. "We will be starting soon."_

_"Tell me a story," she asked. "If I go, I want it to be to the sound of your voice."_

She doesn’t understand, _he realized._ She's already too far gone to understand what was happening around her.

_"There once was a girl," he started slowly. "She was the most beautiful of the Seven Realms. Her parents were killed by an evil witch when she was young, so the King took her in and she grew up in the castle._

_"One day, as she wandered around the gardens, she met the prince. And from the moment his eyes fell on her, he knew he was in love." His hand moved a stray curl from Hermione's face as he smiled sadly. "They became good friends – the best of friends – and one day, they became lovers._

_"But trouble was not over for the young couple," he went on, a dark look crossing his face. "The witch who killed the girl's parents saw power in the girl, and wanted her to herself. She wanted to make her like her. The prince fought for his love and won, but not before the witch cast a curse on the girl. The girl was to die before her time._

_"The prince spent years looking for a cure. And, just when it seemed like it was too late, he found one. A cure that would save the girl from the curse at the price of a hundred years apart. And so, for a hundred years, the prince and his love lived apart. She didn’t even know he existed, but he waited for her, counting the days until they could meet again. And when they did… he vowed his life for her."_

_"A century apart for a lifetime together," Hermione said, opening her eyes and looking at her lover. "It sounds like a better deal than they could have hoped for."_

_"Anything would be better than watching you die," Loki whispered, before looking up at the sound of Thor's voice._

_"Brother!" the God of Thunder called. "We're ready."_

_"It's time,_ Min elskede _," he said. "You need to go now."_

_"_ Min Prins _," Hermione whispered. "In case it doesn’t work –"_

_"Don’t say that."_

_"In case it doesn’t work," she went on, "I just want you to know… I love you."_

_"And I love you," Loki replied, allowing Hermione's Healer to take her away._

_"The water will mark your transition," the Healer said. "You will need to be fully underneath it to make it work, so hold your breath."_

_"O-Okay," Hermione said shakily, leaning on the older woman for support as she lowered herself into the water. "It's cold."_

_"It will not be by the time we are done," Odin told her. "Get your head under the water."_

_Hermione obliged, taking a deep breath before lying on her back with the water covering her. The cold hurt her sore muscles but she ignored it, closing her eyes._

_Loki watched nervously as Odin slowly started lowering the stones into the water. The Allfather started chanting as the Healer handed over Hermione's favorite book to tie the girl into, and Odin placed it right above Hermione's heart._

_As soon as the leather-clad book touched her skin, Hermione jerked up. Odin placed his hand over her head, forcing her down as he continued chanting and Loki fell down at the sound of his lover's screams. He didn’t notice when the Healer keeled over, but Thor did._

_"What is happening?" he asked, rushing to her aid. "What is wrong?"_

_"We always knew there was a price," the Healer muttered. "And I have gladly agreed to pay it."_

_"No…"_

_"I have sworn my life to the protection of Lady Hermione," she went on. "And today is the day I am called upon my oath."_

_"Father, stop this madness!" Thor called out over Hermione's screams, Loki's cries and Odin's chanting. "Can't you see that you are hurting them both?"_

_But Odin didn’t stop. Ignoring his son, he finished the chant and backed away as the water in the bath turned to steam and bright light erupted from it. Hermione's scream echoed in their ears even after it stopped and as the light subsided, Odin slowly neared the bath._

_Thor looked at the woman in his arms. "She's dead," he stated, his voice breaking._

_Loki looked up, tears marking lines down his face. "Did it work?" he asked._

_Carefully, Odin reached out into the tub and pulled out Hermione's book, which looked as good as new, as if it hadn’t just been soaked in water._

_"We will have to tell Heimdall to keep an eye out for her," he started slowly. "But it seemed like the ceremony worked."_

_Slowly, Loki pulled himself to his feet. He neared Odin and took the book from his hands, looking it over carefully before hugging it against his chest._

_"I will wait for you,_ Min elskede _," he promised. "A century apart for a lifetime together."_

* * *

Realms away from this point in space, a couple had just finished getting ready to bed. Richard Granger sat next to his wife, unsure of how to start the conversation they have been putting off for the past couple of weeks.

It's been almost a month since their last miscarriage – their fourth one – and even though he knew how hard it was for the both of them, he couldn’t bring himself to give up. Not just yet.

"Helen," he said carefully.

"Please, don’t," his wife replied. "I… I can't do this anymore, Rick. I can't keep getting my hopes up only to have my heart broken time and time again."

"One last chance," he told her. "One last try, and if this doesn’t work out… we'll do something else. We'll adopt, or try for a surrogate mother." He sighed, looking at the woman who meant the world to him. "Just one more."

"One last attempt?" Helen asked.

"One last attempt," Richard confirmed.

Slowly, Helen nodded and Richard leaned in and hugged her tight, trying his best to sooth away her fears. Neither of them knew it yet, but this one last attempt will be the one that succeeded.


	7. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Past:
> 
> Harry Potter + Marvel Cinematic Universe. Past Natasha Romanoff/Remus Lupin. Remadora, Fremione. Natasha Romanoff never forgot that night in a bar in Moscow, nor did she forget the baby she gave up to adoption. Eleven years later, when Hermione Granger’s adoptive parents are killed in a car crash between her first and second year, Remus Lupin adopts her, learning new truths about the two of them as he does.

Natasha Romanoff, better known as the infamous "Black Widow" was lying on the hospital bed in a small hospital not far from Siberia, trying to ignore the crying girl at the room next to her.

She knew she made the right decision giving up the child for foster care, as hard as it was. The girl deserved a better life than she could offer, and as hard as life on foster care might be, it _was_ better.

She only hoped the people from foster care would be here already. The girl simply wouldn’t stop crying. Every motherly instinct told Tasha to get in there and comfort her, but she knew better. If she picked up the girl, she would never be able to put her down and she knew she couldn’t protect her.

The only way she made it through the last three months of the pregnancy without getting herself killed was staying in an abandoned warehouse. Too many people wanted her head, and she wouldn’t put such a young, innocent child in danger like that.

No matter how much it broke her heart.

Usually, Natasha avoided anything that resembled human company, knowing it would only put both sides in great danger. But that night, a little over nine months ago, was something she couldn’t bring herself to regret.

The handsome man she met at that bar, with his thick British accent and the exotic name – Remus – captured her heart. They were both broken at the time, each of them had lost something and neither of them wanted to discuss it. It was the best night she had ever had, but she still left in the morning before he woke up.

_I would never forgive myself if I put you in danger,_ she wrote at the small note she left him.

Two months later, she found out she was pregnant.

The social worker arrived and Natasha signed over every right on the child. Just as the worker was about to get out of the room and take her baby girl for good, she asked if she could name the child.

The other woman said she could.

Natasha kept track of the child whenever she could do so without attracting too much attention to herself. Even after she joined SHIELD, she didn’t tell them about the child's existence, afraid the information might leak and someone would use it against her.

When she was four years old, a nice British family adopted the girl. Natasha came to see her, looking from afar, and her heart broke a little when she heard the girl, who spoke nothing but fluent Russian a year before, was now speaking with a perfect British accent. She didn’t visit again.

The girl grew up normally, going to primary school and getting grades as high as such a young girl can get. The pair who adopted her were successful dentists so she always got whatever she wanted, and yet she didn’t grow up to be spoiled.

Then, when she was eleven years old, anything that documented the fact that the girl was even alive stopped coming. Natasha knew she could always ask for a favor from one person or another, but she was so used to keeping the girl's existence a secret that she didn’t dare.

She kept track on the parents, who seemed like nothing was changing in their lives. An article here, a mention there. Nothing out of the ordinary.

That is, until the next summer when, after a year without a mention of the girl, an article was published saying that the Grangers had a car accident – a drunk driver crashed into their car and the only survivor was their young girl who will be thirteen this September.

Without saying anything to anybody, Natasha took off and flew to London.

* * *

"I don’t understand what you want from me, Albus," Remus said, looking at the older wizard in confusion. "In case you've forgotten, I'm not allowed to have custody on, well, _anybody_. Certainly not a girl I've just met."

"I believe the Ministry will accept this case as an exception," Dumbledore told him. "The girl has showed signs of genetic lycanthropy."

"Genetic…" Remus was shocked, not knowing how to respond. "Are you saying her parents…?"

"At least one of her biological parents, yes," Dumbledore said. "The girl was adopted at the age of four from a Russian children home, and there is an issue regarding her paperwork."

"An issue meaning?"

"Meaning she was born at a small, disorganized hospital who had managed to lose her birth certificate."

Remus looked at the twelve – nearly thirteen – years old girl who sat on a small bed at the corner of the room, reading a book. She looked so small, much smaller than a girl her age should be.

"How does her… _illness_ expressed?" he asked his old Headmaster.

"Mainly mood-swings and tiredness," Dumbledore replied. "She does not transform, but that might change as she grew up."

"Is there nobody else who could take care of her?"

"Both of her adoptive parents were only children, no grandparents alive. I don’t believe sending her back to the muggle system would be wise and as for the wizarding system…"

"She will be constantly shadowed by her illness," Remus said, looking much older than his 32 years. "How can someone be so reckless to bring a child to this world, sentencing them to the prejudice and hatred?"

"It is possible they didn’t know of her existence," Dumbledore noted.

"They should have been more careful," Remus muttered.

"Would you take her, then?"

Remus sighed. "It's better if she was with someone who understands," he said. "But I won't force her into anything. The choice is hers."

"Go in, then," Dumbledore urged and Remus, reluctantly, obliged.

The girl's eyes darted up as soon as the door opened, but she looked back at her book almost immediately. He neared her carefully, worryingly. At a closer look he saw her eyes were still – she wasn’t really reading – and yet, she moved to the next page. It made him wonder if she had been reading in the first place.

He sat on the chair next to her bed, uncertain of what to do or say.

" _Chto ty khochesh_?" she asked him.

" _Govorit_ ," he replied, causing her to look at him with surprise and… was it appreciation? 

"I'm Hermione," she told him.

"I know," Remus replied. "Dumbledore told me. I'm Remus." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Remus Lupin."

"I don’t know what my last name is," she said, looking back at the book in her lap. "It was Granger. And before… I don’t know."

"What did they call you like at the orphanage?" he asked.

" _Malyushka_ ," she replied. "They couldn’t say Hermione. Some of my friends called me Tasha." 

"Tasha," he repeated, the name bringing back old memories. "Why Tasha?"

"It's my middle name," she shrugged.

_Tasha. A smile that lit the room, long red hair and the faint scent of Vodka._

A horrid thought crossed his mind.

"Hermione, how old are you?" he asked, terrified.

"I'll be 13 in September," she said, before sniffing, almost unnoticeably. "You're worried."

It was a statement, not a question, but Remus couldn’t bring himself to care.

September… that brings it back to his first Christmas after leaving Hogwarts – a Christmas he remembered clearly.

His parents died, and supportive as the Marauders could be sometimes, all he wanted was to be alone. It took him two days to get a permission for a Portkey and inform Dumbledore of his leave, and then he was in Moscow.

His general plan was to drink until he stopped feeling the pain, give himself a couple of days to recover and return, but the girl he met at the bar made him change his mind.

She sat two seats to his left, and he started noticing her after his fifth shot of Vodka – her fourth. When the stool between them cleared, he looked at her, only to find out she was looking at him, as well.

" _Eto plokho_?" she asked, nodding at the empty glasses in front of him. 

"Yeah," he replied. "That bad."

Her eyebrow rose in appreciation and she moved to sit next to him, marking the bartender to hand them another shot. When she pulled out her money, he stopped her.

"Let me," he said, paying for the drink before raising his glass. "To not remembering," he said.

"To not remembering," she agreed, downing her drink just as he downed his. "I'm Tasha, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Tasha," he told her. "I'm Remus."

"Remus," she repeated. "So… unique." She stood up and stretched, smiling at the way he was looking at her body. "I should head out," she told him. "I guess I'll see you sometime."

"Maybe," he said, the hint of a small smile showing at the corner of his lips. "Or you could come up to my room, and we could see more of each other tonight."

If he was sober, there was no way he would have ever said those words. It was Sirius' way to be so straightforward – even Pete's, when the occasion called. Definitely not his, and definitely not with a girl he just met.

To his surprise, Tasha smiled. She must have drank too much, as well, or she was very desperate. If the way she stretched in front of him showed him something, it was that she must have a line of men at her heel.

"That sounds like an idea," she said, leaning in and planting a kiss on his lips. "Are you coming?"

It was one of the best nights of his life. Tasha was amazing, and she seemed to know just what he would need, and he knew what she needed. They both needed to forget. The next morning, he woke up to an empty bed and a short, handwritten note.

_I would never forgive myself if I put you in danger. Love, Tasha._

Remus almost burst out with laughter when he read that note. Usually, he was the one afraid to put others in danger, not vice versa. He waited for her at the bar until his leave ended, but she never came.

He always remembered that night, the Christmas lights that shone out the window and the warmness of their hotel room.

"Sir?"

Hermione's voice brought him back into reality, causing him to quickly leave the room. He didn’t look at her but if he had, he would have seen her retreating back into her book as she pretended to read and shut the world out.

"How did it go?" Dumbledore asked, but Remus was too distressed to form a reply.

After what seemed like eternity, he finally found his words again.

"We need… we need to run a DNA test," he mumbled weakly. "The dates… and Tasha…" He looked at the old Headmaster with fear in his eyes. "Albus, I think I might be her father."

* * *

Natasha barely flinched when she felt another presence standing behind her, looking across the street at the man and child who were getting into a car together. They seemed like they would be happy together and after all, that was all she wanted.

"Yours?" was all Clint asked, and she nodded shortly.

"That's her father," she said, marking at the man. "I never told him… it's one heck of a coincidence for them to meet."

"Maybe," Clint agreed. "And maybe it was something more than that."

"Destiny?" Natasha asked mockingly.

"God, no," he laughed shortly. "You know that my belief of destiny is the same as yours."

"And by that, you mean non-existent," Natasha clarified.

"Yeah," Clint said. "But, if you let me, I could bring you to somebody who might be able to explain."

"I don’t want more people to know," Natasha said. "You're the only one in SHIELD who knows, and it will stay that way."

"Speaking of SHEILD, they're pretty angry that you vanished," Clint said. "Luckily, the woman I want you to meet isn’t SHIELD. Nobody other than myself and Fury even knows she exists."

"Who is she?" Natasha asked, now curious.

"My wife."

Hours later found the two of them heading towards a small house in the middle of nowhere. Grass stretched around it until it reached the tree line, and an old pickup truck parked up front.

"Laura!" he called out. "There's someone here I want you to meet!"

"Just a second!" a voice called out, and before long, a petit, brunette woman walked downstairs. She held a young boy in one hand, and laid the other on her pregnant stomach when she saw Natasha. "Is this…?"

"Natasha Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow," Clint said. "Tasha, this is my wife, Laura Barton."

"Pleasure to finally meet you," Natasha said, smiling nervously. "I wish I could say I heard much about you but I only found out you existed a couple of hours ago, and Clint was quite secretive."

"He always is," Laura said fondly, rolling her eyes. "Dinner's almost ready, we can talk then."

"You really don’t have to –"

"Hush," Laura ordered before turning to her husband. "How much?" she asked him.

"She needs to know more about Remus Lupin," Clint replied.

"That's one long story," Laura frowned. "Take Cooper for a sec," she told Tasha, ignoring the woman's nervous features and handing the young boy over to her.

"I don’t – _okay_ ," Natasha said, holding the boy.

"I'm Cooper!" he said happily.

"I gathered," Natasha muttered.

"What's your name?" he questioned.

"Natasha," she said.

"Antasha?"

"Na- ta- sha," she corrected.

"Aunt Tasha!"

Clint looked up from his wife and at his son, curious to see Natasha's respond and surprised to see her smile.

"Alright," she said. "Aunt Tasha will do."

"So," Laura said. "Table to three?"

"I'll go bring Cooper's chair," Clint said.

"No need." Laura pulled out a wooden stick from her pocket and waved it in the air, smiling at Natasha's shocked face when the chair came through the door and set itself next to the table, accompanied by three plates, glasses, forks and knives.

"But…" Natasha muttered, shocked. "It's impossible."

"I think you just saw it isn’t," Laura said. "I'm a witch – a wand carrier. I went to a special school named Hogwarts to learn how to use and control my magic. And so did Remus Lupin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chto ty khochesh – what do you want?
> 
> govorit – to talk
> 
> Malyushka – little one


	8. Born of Iron

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Born of Iron:
> 
> Marvel Cinematic Universe. Original Female Character. Jasmine always knew that being Tony Stark’s daughter wasn’t easy, in more ways than one. But when her father is kidnapped in Afghanistan, a chain of events is set into motion – one that would make her life even more unusual than they were before.

**_June, 1992._ **

_“Mr. Stark?”_

_Tony heard someone calling his name, but he didn’t look up. He sat in the waiting room, his head in his hands as he tried to make sense of the mess that had just occurred._

_Galli left. She left after telling him she wanted nothing to do with him, nothing to do with_ her _. What was he supposed to do now? He always thought that when – if – this day would arrive he would have his parents to help him. He could go to him mom – and if he was desperate, even his dad – for advice._

_But they weren’t here. They died, six months ago, and they were never coming back._

_“Mr. Stark?” the voice repeated and Tony raised his eyes to see a doctor looking at him. “She’s stable,” she said. “We’ll have to keep her here for a while to keep watch on her stats, but chances are she’s going to make it. She’s a strong girl,” she added with a small smile._

_She’ll make it. She’s gonna make it. Tony felt an enormous weight being lifted off his chest only to be replaced with a new one. What was he going to do now?_

_“Would you like to meet her?”_

_“I…” Did he want to meet her? He wasn’t sure if he did. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do anymore, all that he knew was that he couldn’t take her of her. But he had to see her, at least once. “Yes,” he said determinedly. “Yes, I… I want to see her.”_

_“Through here,” the doctor said, leading him into a room._

_The first thing he noted was the number of different tubes that came out of the bubble-like cot. The figure inside looked so little – he didn’t know much about how she should look, but he was sure she looked too little._

_“She’ll grow,” the doctor said and Tony realized he said that out loud. “Like I said, she’s strong. Since she’s premature, we need to keep her in there,” she nodded at the cot, “but hopefully you could take her home soon.”_

Home. Take her home. _What was he supposed to do? He didn’t know how to care for a child, didn’t know what a parent should do. And this one so small, so fragile, he was sure if he touched her she would break._

_But she’s strong. That’s what the doctor said._

_“Can I…?” he started, marking at the cot._

_“Of course,” the doctor said, giving him a glove showing him from where he could insert his hand to the bubble. “Here we go,” she added as the little baby inside moved her tiny hand, trying to grasp Tony’s fingers. “I think she likes you.”_

_“Of course she does,” Tony replied, unable to keep the smile off his face. “She recognizes her daddy, don’t you, little one?” The baby didn’t say anything, expectantly, but her hand moving was affirmative enough for Tony. “What’s her name?” he asked._

_“She doesn’t have one yet,” the doctor said. “The mother –”_

_“Galli,” Tony corrected. “She lost any right to be her mother when she walked away.”_

_“Galli didn’t name her before she left,” the doctor told him. “It’s up to you. I’ll leave the two of you alone to get to know each other,” she added, turning to walk out of the room. “Let me know if you needed anything.”_

_Get to know each other? Tony almost laughed out loud when the doctor said the words. The little one was barely hours old, what could there possibly be for them to get to know each other?_

_But the more he looked at her, the more he saw._

_The little one had a_ _נקודת חן on her left shoulder. She had no fingernails, but she was immensely intrigued with his as she studied his hand through the glove. Her tiny legs were tangled with one another and while one of her hands studied his, the other made way towards her mouth._

_She was the most perfect thing he had ever laid his eyes on. And, coming to think about it, he probably should stop referring to her as ‘she’ or ‘the little one’. He quickly pulled a device out of his pocket and turned it on._

_“JARVIS,” he said, “look up baby girl names.”_

_“Searching,” the machine replied. “Over 20,000 results found.”_

_Tony couldn’t help but let out a low whistle. He knew that there were a lot of names in the world, but how was one supposed to pick one with how many there were? Maybe if he focused on the first letter it will be easier._

_“J, hit the first site result and narrow it down to names in the letter…” 26 letters, Tony, all you need to do is pick one. “J, narrow it down to the letter… the letter…”_

_“Narrowed down to results starting with the letter ‘J’,” JARVIS told him, and Tony raised a brow as he realized his mistake. “1,074 results found.”_

_“Just… just pick one at random,” Tony sighed. How did people do that? Some people had more than one child – how can you do that_ twice _?_

_“Name chosen – Jacarannda.”_

_Tony cringed. If many of the names were as horrible as this, maybe that was how people narrowed it down. “Another,” he ordered._

_“Name chosen – Jahaera.”_

_“Another.”_

_“Name chosen – Jennavieve.”_

_“Okay, narrow it down to less than five letters.”_

_“Name chosen – Jas.”_

_“Jas,” Tony repeated, trying the word on his tongue. “Could be short for Jasmine. What do you say, little one?” he asked and the girl opened and closed her tiny mouth, making incoherent noises. “It’s settled, then,” he said with a smile, looking at her. “Hello, Jasmine. Jasmine Maria Stark.”_

* * *

**January 2010.**

Even at three in the morning, it wasn’t uncommon to see a car driving through the silent streets of Malibu. Most of the residents were rich men and women who were often out for parties, charities or returning from a flight in the late hours of the night.

Which was why when a car drove through the neighborhood that night, nobody paid it any special attention.

The car drove fast – faster than was permitted in those areas, but none of the passengers cared, too busy fighting over the music that blared out of the open windows. It made a sharp turn, making two of the girls in the backseat fall over on the boy sitting between them, and they all let out a laugh as the car drove towards a house that was further away from the rest – the Stark Mansion.

As they reached the gates, the car pulled to a stop and a girl stumbled out, straightening her dress and passing a hand through her hair as it blew in the wind.

“See you Monday!” she told her friends.

“See you!”

“Bye, Jasmine!”

“Call me tomorrow, Jas!”

The driver didn’t wait for Jasmine to reply to the chorus of goodbyes, already speeding down the lane back to the neighborhood and Jasmine smiled, heading to the keypad and typing the password to open the gate.

She walked down the lane, managing to reach the door after only falling twice. She opened her bag, looking into it with a confused expression.

“Where did I put my keys?” she muttered to herself, searching through it until she found them in one of the side pockets. “There you go! That was smart of me to put it there,” she added, even though there was nobody to hear.

She turned her attention back to the door, straining her eyes until she managed to find the keyhole. Then, she aimed the key in its general direction, resulting in her missing it by about three inches.

She tried again, and then a third time before her keys fell to the ground with a clutter and she let out a giggle, leaning down to pick them up. Just when her hands wrapped around them, she saw the door opening from the corner of her eye and looked up to see no other than Tony Stark looking down at her.

“Jasmine Maria Stark,” he said. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“Hi, dad,” Jasmine muttered. “Good to see you, too.”

“Do you have any idea how worried I was?” he went on, ignoring her. “How worried Pepper and Happy were?” He looked her up and down, taking notice of her short dress, low cleavage and drunken state. “Living room,” he said sharply. “Now.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Vegas or something?” Jasmine asked, throwing her bag and keys at the table next to the door as she headed towards the living room.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in bed or something?” Tony asked, closing the door behind her and following her in.

“Well, I guess we’re both disappointing then, aren’t we?”

“Came back about two hours ago,” Tony said. “Thought I’d drop in to see how you are, since I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Imagine my surprise when I saw an empty bed where my daughter should have been.”

Jasmine glared at the ceiling. “I told you not to let anyone in,” she said.

“I apologize, Miss Stark,” the mechanical voice of JARVIS replied, “but Sir’s orders overrule yours.”

“He only did as I told him,” Tony said. “Which is more than I can say about you at the moment.”

“JARVIS, how long after my dad returned home did he _actually_ check for me?” Jasmine asked.

“About an hour,” JARVIS replied. “Not long after Miss Everheart fell asleep.”

“Miss Everheart, huh?” Jasmine asked. “Let me guess… blonde, medium height, big boobs?”

“Actually, her breast size is –”

“None of your business,” Tony said. “Besides, this isn’t about me.”

“Well, that’s new,” Jasmine retorted. “I thought everything was always about you.”

“Apparently the exception is you sneaking back into the house at three in the morning after a night of drinking,” Tony said. “What were you thinking? Anything could’ve happened to you!”

“I was safe,” Jasmine said. “I went out with friends.”

“Right, because a bunch of drunken people in their twenties is what would keep you safe.”

“Do you know how hard it is for me to make friends?” Jasmine asked. “Everyone is at least half a decade older than me. This is the first time they asked me to go out with them.”

“Of course it is!” Tony called out. “And they should have kept that attitude! Excuse me for not trusting people who encourage underage drinking!”

“As if you’re so much better,” Jasmine retorted. “I bet you drank way more than I did tonight.”

“How many times do I have to tell you – this isn’t about me!” Tony called out, shaking his head. “I know you’re smarter than that, Jasmine. You’re seventeen, start acting like it!”

“No!” Jasmine yelled back. “How about _you_ be the grown up for once?”

Tony froze. “What did you just say?” he asked in a low voice.

“It’s like ever since I was six years old, I’m the grown up!” Jasmine went on. “You’re like an overgrown baby that I need to look after – make sure you eat, make sure you sleep. You’re the parent and I’m the child, so start acting like it!”

For a couple of moments, Tony was completely silent. “Go to your room,” he finally said.

“Gladly,” Jasmine snarled, all but jumping up from the couch.

“And we will discuss this in the morning!” he yelled after her.

“As if!” Jasmine bit back, running up the stairs.

Tony looked after her for a moment, before starting to descend down the stairs.

“JARVIS, I’ll be in the lab if anybody needs me,” he said. “Make sure nobody needs me. And send Jas down when she wakes up,” he added as an afterthought.

“Will do, Sir,” JARVIS replied, making sure to close all of the lights in the main floor as his creator closed the door to his lab behind him.

* * *

When Jasmine woke up, she had a splitting headache and her mouth was dry. She looked around the room, the memory of last night returning to her at the sight of the chair she threw at the wall in her anger and the worn out party dress at the foot of her bed.

She looked at the clock, frowning when she saw it was only seven in the morning. She really hoped she could get a bit more sleep before she had to drag herself out of bed.

A wave of nausea hit her and she stumbled to her bathroom, emptying what little liquids she still had in her stomach before washing her mouth with water, spitting it a couple of times before drinking right from the sink.

“There is a glass of water and a headache medicine waiting for you at your night shed,” JARVIS’s voice echoed around the nearly empty room.

“Thanks,” Jasmine said, wiping her mouth with her bare arm, “but I really don’t think just one glass will do.”

“I will recommend taking the headache medicine regardless,” JARVIS replied. “Miss Potts asked me to tell you breakfast will be ready in thirty minutes, and Sir required your presence in the lab as soon as you were awake.”

“‘Required my presence’,” Jasmine muttered, heading back to her room to dress up and take the pill. “He does understand how fucking messed up this is, right?”

“I’m afraid Sir seems to be blissfully ignorant in that matter,” JARVIS replied. “I should also tell you he is still angry about last night’s ordeal, and isn’t likely to let it go any time soon.”

“Great,” Jasmine said. “As if my hangover isn’t enough, now I need to deal with _him_.”

She quickly washed up, brushing her teeth and putting on a pair of shorts and a tank top before making her way downstairs. Unlike her room, which was dark and quiet, the windows at rest of the house were wide open, allowing the bright May sun to wash over her.

Usually, she would have liked that, but as the light only seemed to hurt her eyes and increase the headache she ordered JARVIS to close the curtains in the rooms she had to walk through. His response to that was to turn on the lights and when she told him to close those, too, he replied that Tony forbade him from doing so.

Cursing under her breath, Jasmine quickly made her way to the lab only to be presented with bright florescent and music blaring through the speakers.

She sat down, rubbing her temples in hopes the medicine she took will start working and glaring at her father’s back as he tended to one of his cars, completely ignoring her. After about ten minutes, she decided enough was enough.

“Did you call me here just to ignore me?” she asked.

“I’m considering it,” he replied. “Just let you sit here in the bright lights with loud music for a couple of hours. How’s your headache, by the way?”

“What headache?”

“Don’t lie to me,” Tony said. “JARVIS told me you took the pill Pepper left you.”

“Traitor,” Jasmine muttered.

“I’d be nicer to him if I were you,” he said. “I was against leaving you a pill at all until he noted that if your headache was too strong you might not be able to listen to what I have to say.”

“So you gave me a pill so I could listen to what you have to say only to ignore me,” Jasmine said. “I thought you were smarter than that.”

“And I thought you were smarter than sneaking out to go underage drinking,” Tony retorted. “I guess we’re both disappointing then, aren’t we?”

“Do you have a point coming any time soon or can I go back to sleep?” Jasmine asked.

“Oh, I have a point,” Tony said, finally turning to look at her. “Let’s see, you snuck out of the house in the middle of the night so I think you should be punished accordingly.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you’re grounded for a month,” Tony replied. “I also took the liberty of taking away your phone and laptop while you slept and ordered JARVIS not to let you watch TV or go out to the pool. No lab, no friends, Happy will take you to your classes and back to make sure you don’t try to escape punishment.”

“You can’t do that!” Jasmine protested.

“Actually, seeing as you’re seventeen, I think you’re going to find out I can,” Tony retorted. “You wanted me to be the parent so this is me, being the parent.”

“This is you being ridiculous,” Jasmine said, tears in her eyes. “This is you cutting me out of my life and… and…”

“And?”

“And I hate you!” she screamed, standing up and heading to the door. “JARVIS, let me out,” she commanded.

“Don’t,” Tony said, his demeanor much calmer than his daughter’s.

“No!” Jasmine said, turning to look at him. “You can cut me out of the world, you can take away everything that makes me happy but the one thing you _can’t_ do is force me to be in the same room with you. JARVIS!”

Behind her, the door unlocked and she stormed out, her father hurrying after her.

“Jas…” he started.

“Stay away from me!” she called, not even bothering to turn and look at him. “I hate you!”

Tony sighed, closing the door before falling on the chair she previously sat on.

“I did the right thing, right?” he asked.

“Your punishment was justified, though quite extreme,” JARVIS commented.

“She needs to learn,” Tony said determinedly, getting up and going back to working on the car. “It will keep her safe.”

“As you say, Sir,” JARVIS replied and even though Tony knew he was nothing more than an AI, he could’ve sworn he heard disbelief in the machine’s voice.

* * *

A couple of floors above him, Jasmine ran into her room and shut the door behind her. She headed straight to her table and after seeing her laptop wasn’t there, she started looking for the bag she used last night.

Her eyes widened and her fists clenched with anger as she realized she left it downstairs last night, and that Tony probably took her phone from it already. She grabbed the closest thing to her – the glass of water Pepper left her with the headache medicine – and threw it at the wall where it shattered before falling on her bed.

She was never that angry at him. _Never_. And it wasn’t like he didn’t give her enough reasons to be angry at him.

With Tony Stark, birthdays were often forgotten in favor of fancy parties, and his attendance at events that were important for her – from the dance recital when she was six and up until high school graduation at fourteen – was all but nonexistent.

But this was different. All those other times, she was still there and she had the memories, even if he wasn’t a part of them.

So what if he had a trip to France and missed her Sweet Sixteen? She still had restaurant reservations and went with her friends. So what if he missed her winning the Science Fair because there was a party celebrating a new Stark car? Pepper and Happy took her out for ice cream to celebrate.

But this? This was taking everything away from her, locking her in the house with nothing to do and nobody to talk to.

A knock was heard on the door, but Jasmine didn’t look up.

“Jas?” Pepper asked. “I cooked you some breakfast if you want.”

“Not hungry!” Jasmine called back.

“You really should eat,” Pepper said. “It will help calm your stomach down and –”

“I said I wasn’t hungry!” Jasmine said, throwing a pillow on the door.

Outside the room, Pepper sighed. “Tony will be leaving to Afghanistan in a couple of minutes if you want to say goodbye.”

“I don’t,” Jasmine bit out.

“Jas…”

“Don’t, Pepper,” Jasmine said. “I hate him.”

“You don’t mean that…”

“Yes, I do.” Jasmine looked at the ceiling, her eyes starting to water up again. “I wish he was dead.”

Pepper sighed again before leaving, deciding it was best to let the teenager blow off steam on her own. In her room, Jasmine curled into a ball and finally let herself cry all of her anger out.

Neither of them knew that in less than twenty-four hours, Jasmine would regret those words more than she could even begin to imagine.

* * *

For the second time in two nights, Jasmine found herself awake at three in the morning.

After spending most of the day sleeping through her hangover, she didn’t eat anything and only drank the few times she went to the restroom. Thinking there wouldn’t be anyone awake at this hour, she only planned on grabbing some leftovers and heading back to her room.

Her plans changed as soon as she heard voices in the living room.

“Rhodey’s still waiting for more news,” Happy’s voice said. “So far it seems like there are no survivors, but they didn’t find a body.”

“So he might still be alive?” Pepper asked.

“With the state the scene is in… we can’t know for sure.”

She knew she wasn’t supposed to hear this. Conversations meant to her ears didn’t take place in hushed voices or in the middle of the night.

“We can’t tell her.”

At the sound of Pepper’s words, Jasmine knew with even more certainty than before that she wasn’t supposed to hear this conversation. She also knew without a doubt that there wasn’t a chance she’s going to stop eavesdropping now.

“You can’t hide this from her,” Happy said.

“I can and I will,” Pepper replied. “At least until we have something more to tell her.”

“Pep, it’s gonna be all over the news in just a couple of hours.”

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing Tony took away her phone and told JARVIS not to let her watch TV. She doesn’t have access to the news.”

“But her friends do,” Happy said. “What will happen when she goes to class Monday morning? People will talk. We don’t know when – or _if_ – he comes back. What will we do when she asks?”

“We’ll find something,” Pepper said.

“Pepper…” Happy sighed. “We can’t hide this from her. We have to tell her.”

“Tell me what?”

Happy and Pepper turned around, surprise evident on their faces at the sight of her.

“Jas!” Pepper said, glancing at Happy worriedly. “What are you doing up?”

“I was hungry,” Jasmine said. “Tell me what?”

“I’ll make you something to eat,” Happy said. “I’m sure there’s some leftover pizza in the fridge –”

“Happy,” Jasmine said, her voice wavering. Happy paused and looked at her, his expression somber. “Tell me what?”

Pepper swallowed hard before talking. “You know your dad went to Afghanistan to introduce the new Jericho missiles,” she started, waiting for the teenager to nod before resuming. “The vehicle they were in… they drove into an ambush.”

Jasmine’s eyes widened. “He…” she said slowly. “He’s not…”

“We don’t know,” Happy said. “All of the soldiers who escorted him were declared dead on scene, but… Tony’s missing.”

“No…”

Suddenly, Jasmine’s feet couldn’t hold her up anymore. She nearly fell, the only thing keeping her up being the wall next to her. Happy made a move towards her but she moved back, the back of her head hitting the door.

“No!” she called out. “No! You’re lying!”

“Jasmine…”

“You’re lying!” she repeated. “Stay away from me!”

She ran out of the room, not even knowing where she was heading until she found herself standing in front of the lab.

“JARVIS, let me in,” she said.

“Miss Stark, Sir had ordered not to let you into the lab for another twenty nine –”

“Let me in!” she screamed at the AI. “Let me in or I swear I’ll break the door. You know I will!”

Nothing happened and Jasmine turned away, grabbing a nearby chair and preparing herself for the throw when she heard the door unlocking. The chair fell to the ground, completely forgotten as Jasmine pushed the door open and walked in.

The black and yellow car her dad was working on last time she saw him was still there. Not far behind it, was the red car they were working on together – their little project, her dad said. He promised that once they were done, the car would be hers.

Looking away from it, she reached out into the toolbox and took out a wrench.

“Lock the door,” she ordered, twisting the wrench in her hand as she neared the black car once more. “Don’t let anybody in without my say so.”

“Yes, Miss Stark,” JARVIS said.

“And start my playlist,” she added as an afterthought.

A song started playing loudly through the speakers, but Jasmine paid it no special attention. She looked at the car, noting it still needed paintwork and that the doors and the hood still needed a more thorough fix.

_Dad must’ve only fixed the engine,_ she realized. _So I’ll stay away from the engine._

The wrench went up and down, colliding with the roof of the car. Not missing a beat, Jasmine swiped it from side to side, slamming it against the door.

She went on, hitting the car with the wrench at any spot she could do so without harming the engines before throwing it across the room where it collided with a glass cabinet that shattered to pieces, sending glass shreds on the floor.

Ignoring the mess completely, Jasmine walked back to the shed and put on the working gloves Tony bought her a couple of months ago.

She now had a car to fix.

* * *

Over the next week, Jasmine worked on the car non-stop. Every once in a while, Pepper came downstairs with food but Jasmine waited until her father’s assistant gave up and left before opening the door to retrieve it. Even so, she still didn’t always remember to eat it, only remembering it was there when her stomach complained loudly.

She only slept when she collapsed, her head resting against whichever piece she was fixing at the moment until she was woken up by nightmares. From what snippets of news JARVIS informed her of twice a day, there was no progress on the quest to finding Tony, but Jasmine’s mind still worked over hours with the worst scenarios imaginable.

The first night, she woke up with a scream from a dream of Tony heading towards her, murder in his eyes despite the bullet hole in his head.

After that, she just pushed her body to its limits, music blaring around her in all hours of the day to make sure she didn’t accidently stop and think.

As days went by, JARVIS had less and less news to inform her off, each mention of her father on TV shorter and further apart from the one before. It took every ounce of her power not to break the TV when a reporter said that since they hadn’t reached any progress yet, Tony Stark was more than likely dead.

It went on like that for a week, fixing the car and sending away anyone who had tried to visit her, shutting out anyone who tried to talk to her. Exactly seven days after Tony was declared missing, arrived the only visitor Jasmine couldn’t lock out.

Colonel James Rhodes leaned on the table across from her, watching as she worked on the car. He was insistent that she let him in, but it seemed like he was now waiting for her to be the first to talk.

For several hours, they stayed silent, Jasmine working and Rhodey watching. It was already close to midnight when Jas finally spoke.

“How did this happen?” she asked.

“Our forced drove into a Ten Rings ambush –”

“I watched the news, Rhodey,” she bit out. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.

Rhodey took a couple of deep breaths before replying to her question. “Someone tipped them off,” he said. “The attack was too well-planned for anything else. They knew our troops will be there – knew Tony will be there.”

“You think he was the target?” Jas asked, pausing her work to turn around and look at him. “Why?”

“Why would someone kidnap a genius billionaire who can make weapons?” Rhodey asked. “I think this one pretty much explains itself.”

“So you’re assuming he’s alive, is what you say?” she clarified.

“Until I have reason to believe otherwise.” He stepped forwards, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m not giving up on him, Jas.”

“Everyone else had,” Jasmine replied, her voice small and shaking.

“I’m not everybody else,” Rhodey replied. “And because I’m not everybody else, I’m not going to ignore the other problem here.”

“What other problem?” Jas asked, confused.

“The fact that if you keep going the way you had, Tony will have no daughter to come back to. You hadn’t left the lab in days, Jas,” he sighed. “You barely eat and I can see you hardly sleep.”

“I can’t sleep,” Jasmine said. “I… I have nightmares.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she said quickly, before a conflicted expression crossed her face. “Yes. I don’t know,” she sighed. “I just… I can’t stop thinking…”

“Thinking what?” Rhodey asked carefully.

“I told Pepper I wish he was dead,” she said. “The last thing I told him was that I hated him. And what… what if he died and I didn’t… I never got the chance to tell him…”

“Oh, Jas…” The hand on Jasmine’s shoulder pulled her into a hug, and Rhodey held her tight as she started crying. “This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault.”

“I know,” Jas cried, “but…”

“No ‘but’,” Rhodey said. “We’ll bring him back. I’ll make sure of that. But you need to make sure he has something to come back to, okay?”

“O-Okay.”

“Good.” Rhodey pulled back, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a picture. “Just in case you need a reminder what you’re holding on for.”

Jasmine looked at the picture and her breath hitched in her throat. In it was her dad, looking just like she remembered him from when she last saw him – only wearing a suit and his sunglasses. Next to him was a smiling soldier, leaning in his direction and doing the ‘peace’ sign.

“Is this…?” she started, tears making her voice break.

“The time stamp is about a minute before the first bomb exploded,” Rhodey said. “I know you saw videos of the place he was taken from, and your last memory of him is the fight you had before he left. I thought you might need something nicer to remember him by.”

Jasmine wrapped her arms around his neck, not caring that a week’s worth of dirt, oil and sweat stuck to Rhodey’s uniform.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear and he smiled softly, his arms wrapping around her.

“Anytime, kiddo.”

* * *

**March 2010.**

Going out of the house was even harder than Jas anticipated it to be.

It wasn’t that concentrating on her classes was hard – it gave her mind something to think about other than her father’s unknown location, much like working in the lab did. It also wasn’t that people pestered her with questions about her wellbeing or the search for Tony – her friends realized pretty fast that she didn’t want to talk about it, and they made sure to keep away others who didn’t realize it.

But they couldn’t stop the stares. The couldn’t stop the whispers. They couldn’t stop the feeling that came when she walked into a room only for everybody in it to stop talking.

Quickly enough, though, the semester ended and exam period began. Jas and her friends spent most days sitting in the living room of Stark Mansion, revising material and solving questions. It was like taking a break from real life – Jas only had to leave the house to go to exams, but she wasn’t locking herself away from the world.

It was as they walked out of their last exam, all tired but satisfied, that Jas and her friends decided they deserved a reward for making it through.

“Pizza?” Jamie suggested. “We could actually have it out and not order in like we usually do.”

“I want something to stop my brain from working,” George groaned. “I feel like it’s melting. Can it melt? If it can, then I’m pretty sure it just did.”

“It can’t,” Jas said, laughing at his antics. “But we could go on a movie, maybe? And then pizza?”

“Could do,” Max said, smiling. “All in favor of movie and then pizza say ‘Aye’.”

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Aye.”

“Ow!” Jas raised her brow at Jamie, who had somehow managed to drop her bag on her foot. “Yes, yes, Aye, whatever,” Jamie muttered, rubbing her foot. “A bit of sympathy wouldn’t kill you, y’know. That hurt.”

“I’ll buy you chocolate at the cinema,” Jas promised, and the group walked away.

The movie was exactly what they needed to get their mind off everything that was going on – just enough action to keep them interested, just enough drama to keep them on their toes and just enough romance to have the much-needed happy ending. They all laughed as they walked out of the cinema, starting to head towards the pizzeria.

“I’ll be just a sec,” Jasmine said, looking through. “I have a missed call from Rhodey, I should probably call him –”

The flash of a camera made her stop, hand reaching out to pull up her hoodie in a well-practiced motion.

“Miss Stark! Miss Stark!”

“Let’s go,” she told her friends shortly and they quickly followed her, heading out of the cinema and to where Max’s car was waiting.

“Miss Stark, how are you handling your father’s disappearing in Afghanistan?” a reporter called out.

“No comment,” she replied shortly.

“Miss Stark, are you taking an active part in running your family’s company, or is Obadiah Stern is still acting CEO?”

“No comment.”

They were halfway to the car by now… just a little bit more and they could drive away from the reporters who stuck their noses in places they weren’t wanted.

“Miss Stark, do you agree with the declaration that your father is more than likely dead?”

“No comment.”

“Miss Stark, what do you think about the military decision to order Colonel Rhodes to stop searching for your father?”

“What?” Jasmine blurted out, turning around to look at the reporter who asked the question before snapping back to reality. “No comment,” she said sharply. “No comment to anything you say – if you want information you can look at the official declaration Obadiah Stern made in my name. Good day,” she told them, her voice suggesting exactly the opposite as she entered the car.

“Miss Stark! Miss Stark! Miss Stark!”

“Jas?” George asked as he sat next to her, wrapping a hand over her shoulders. “You okay?”

“No,” she admitted quietly, looking at the Stark-phone that was still in her hand. “I… I need to call Rhodey.”

She dialed the number and waited for Rhodey to pick up, not noticing the worried looks on her friends’ faces.

* * *

Tony had no idea how long it had been since the Ten Rings kidnapped him. All he knew was that they finally managed to build the arc generator for his chest, they were working on the suit that will set them free, and that he was now playing Backgammon with Yinsen.

“Shesh Besh,” the other prisoner said. “Good roll.”

Tony nodded, moving his pieces on the board. “You still didn’t tell me where you’re from,” he commented.

“I’m from a small town called Gulmira,” Yinsen said. “It’s actually a nice place.”

“You got a family?”

“Yes,” Yinsen replied. “And I will see them when I leave here. And you, Stark?”

“A daughter,” Tony replied, the pain in his chest that had nothing to do with the shrapnel returning, as it did every time he thought about Jasmine. “We… We fought last time I saw her.”

“What about?”

“She went out drinking with some friends,” Tony said. “At seventeen years old. I went completely over the line with her punishment, and she told me she hated me.”

“It couldn’t have been that bad,” Yinsen said.

“It was worse,” Tony admitted. “Her entire life, I just keep failing her. The kid’s a genius – she finished high school when she was fourteen, and I wasn’t even there for her graduation.”

“If you could see her now,” Yinsen said, “what would you have told her?”

“That I love her. That I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I think I would just hold her tight and never let go again.”

“Isn’t it how it is always with children?” Yinsen questioned. “You are a man who has everything,” he added, picking up the dice. “But without her, you would have nothing.”

Tony thought about it for long after they returned to playing in silence.

It was true. Jasmine was his everything – she was the only good thing he had ever done. But it seemed like he just couldn’t keep it going. He let her down more times than he could count, and as he recalled the fight they had before he left for Afghanistan, he couldn’t help but think that everything she said was true.

He wasn’t a responsible adult, he knew that. But with Jasmine’s mother leaving as soon as the girl was born and Pepper only being able to help so much, the burden of teaching Jas everything a parent should teach fell on… well, it fell on Jasmine’s shoulders.

She taught herself to stand up for herself when she needed to, and read about her period when she got one – though not before spending a few good days freaking out. She looked after him when he sunk into his work, making sure he ate and slept on a proper schedule.

Doing everything a parent should do for a child, only the roles were so horribly reversed.

That night, as he lay on the few blankets that set up his bed in this horrible place, he vowed that if he made it out of here alive, he’ll make it up for her.


	9. Blackened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blackened:
> 
> Harry Potter. Original Female Character/George Weasley. Being a fifteen-year-old girl is hard. Being a fifteen years old Hogwarts student, best friend to the Weasley twins, niece to the Potions Master and god-daughter of the Defense professor the year your father escaped Azkaban? That’s harder.

The fifteen year old girl was nearly jumping down the stairs at her godfather's house at the first day of the semester. Unlike many others at her age, she was actually excited from the thought of being back at school. After spending the summer vacation at her legal guardian's house, she came here, as always, to have the man she treated like an uncle escort her to the school train.

In many ways, she was not a normal girl. Most normal girls have their parents, and are not raised by two uncles that can barely stand being in the same room with one another. Normal girls aren’t attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And even those who do, don’t usually have the Potions Master as their uncle.

"Remember," she told Remus Lupin, her Godfather, when she grabbed a piece of toast as her breakfast, "My friends know nothing about Sev being my uncle and legal guardian. I'd like to keep it that way."

"They don't? You should've told me that, Eileen! Somewhere around, I don't know, when I took the offer at Hogwarts," Remus mock said.

This year, in addition to all the things that made her _not_ a normal girl, she had Remus, or as she should probably start calling him, Professor Lupin, as her Defence Against the Dark Arts professor.

If anyone would have asked her, she would have probably said something along the lines of ' _Yay me_ '. Sarcastically speaking, of course.

"Ha ha," Eileen told him with a serious look on her face. "Not funny."

"I know, I know," Remus said. "You got your bags?"

"Yup," she said.

"Broom?"

"Duh."

"Owl?"

"Why do I even need an owl?" she protested. "Both you and Sev are at Hogwarts with me, as well as all of my friends."

"Is it with you?" Remus asked again.

"Yes," she sighed.

"We're ready to go, then," he said and walked out the door to the pavement and to where two ministry cars were parking.

" _Must_ we arrive at these?" Eileen asked with a frown. The last thing she needed was to attract even more attention to herself than she will already get this year.

"It's for our own safety," Remus said.

"It's to make sure _he_ doesn't try and contact us," she corrected him. "Same reason we were under surveillance the past month, since he escaped."

He looked at her for a moment. "That was also for our safety," he said softly.

"And so was the fact Sev never allows me to go to the twins at summertime, wasn't it?" she asked bitterly.

"The twins were in _Egypt_ ," he reminded her.

"Still," she muttered angrily, causing Remus to laugh.

"Anyway, _that_ is because when you're with them, you get yourself in trouble," he said as he opened the car door for her.

Eileen entered the car, knowing she lost this argument. "I get myself in trouble without them, too," she muttered.

"Just one more reason for you to stay at home and not wander around," Remus said and sat next to her.

The ride passed without any of them saying another word but when they reached the Hogwarts Express, she escorted him to his compartment and put his bag in the luggage rack before going to find her friends.

"Eilly!"

Eileen turned her head at the sound of the familiar voice to see Cedric Diggory, her best friend other than the Weasley Twins, looking at her and beaming. She gave him a friendly hug, which he returned happily before backing away and looking at her.

"How was your summer?" he asked and she shrugged.

"Had my better, had my worse," she replied.

"Understandable," he said, "Considering…" he trailed off, leaving her feeling slightly uncomfortable at the unspoken mention of the man she hated so. "Care to join me?" he finally asked, marking at the carriage, which currently housed two other Hufflepuffs their age.

"I'd love to, but I actually promised the twins I would sit with them. But I can sit with you in the carriage, if you'd like," she added at the look of disappointment on his face.

"I would," he beamed at her. "Well, I guess I'll see you, then."

"Certainly," she replied, smiling as well as she searched for her Gryffindor friends.

"Eileen!" the twins called together when she entered their compartment and she couldn’t help but smile.

Her best friends, Fred and George Weasley, could make any rainy day feel sunny.

"Hey guys," she said, sitting next to George. "How was summer?"

"Egypt was amazing," Fred said. "How was your summer? We hadn't heard from you since... well..."

"Since your father escaped from Azkaban," George completed his brother's sentence. "How are you dealing?"

_Maybe their ability to make this rainy day feel sunny isn’t so good_ , she thought to herself as a frown settled on her face.

"I'm fine," she heard herself say. "And he is _not_ my father."

"Technically, he is," Fred commented.

"Technically isn't enough," Eileen said coldly. She saw him open his mouth to add something and sighed. "Can we please not talk about it?"

"Of course we can," George quickly said, giving his brother a harsh glare.

The trio spent the rest of the trip playing exploding snap and telling jokes before the train came to a sudden stop.

"We arrived?" Fred asked. "Good, I'm hungry."

"We couldn't have," Eileen said. "It's too soon."

The lights flickered and shut down and she grabbed George's hand in fear.

"It's alright," he said.

"Are you cold, too?" Fred asked and her grip on George's hand tightened.

Before any of them could do anything, though, the door opened and a dark figure entered.

"Who is it?" Eileen called.

"Who are you?" a voice replied and she instantly recognized its owner. Malfoy, a Slytherin two years younger than herself and one of Snape's favourites.

He stumbled forward with two of his friends and nearly fell on her. She pushed him away just as the door opened once again.

Instantly, Eileen felt as if happiness was draining from her.

_"Not the kids!"_ a woman yelled. _"Please, not the kids!"_

There was a cold laugh and a green light. She heard a baby cry and pushed herself into a standing position.

She could hear her own voice talking - the voice of a four year old.

_"Pwease stop cwying, Hawwy," she said, though she herself was choking back tears. "Pwease stop cwying."_

"Expecto Patronum," she whispered weakly, thinking about the two friends that were behind her, and the feeble light that came out of her wand was just enough to push the Dementor away. The effort it took drained out her powers and everything turned black.

When she woke, the train was moving again.

"Are you okay?" she heard George say and straightened up immediately.

"I... I gotta go," she said quickly, pushing him off and running out before anyone could say another thing.

It didn’t take her long to find the compartment where Remus stayed, but she was shocked to find he was not alone. A frightened looking Hermione Granger, Neville Longbottom, Ron and Ginny Weasley were with him, supporting a weak Harry Potter. _Great_ , she thought to herself. _Just what I need right now._

"What happened?" she asked.

"Dementors," Remus said shortly, breaking chocolate into edible bits. "Harry passed out."

The words found their way to her mouth before she could think. "You too?" she asked and everybody looked at her with curiosity.

"Did you..." Remus asked worryingly.

"Yes," she replied, suddenly ashamed and embarrassed.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Eileen glanced at the younger students who were looking at her, curious.

"I have an idea," Remus said as he handed them some of the chocolate. "Eat this. I need to speak with the driver, why don't I escort you back to the twins?"

She nodded feebly as he got up and walked out, following closely after him.

"What happened?" he asked when they were alone.

"It came back," she said, her voice shaking. "That night, at Godric's Hallow. The Halloween when..." She took a deep breath to calm herself and Remus held her hand.

"You're safe now," he said. "They're only dreams."

"They're not dreams, Moony, they're memories." Tears rose to her eyes. "Why did he do that? Why did he send me there when he knew Voldemort was coming?"

"I don't know," Remus said slowly. "But he can't hurt you now."

"Why did he have to escape?" she cried, letting the dam that held her tears break.

"Because he's a madman," he replied shortly.

"He's worse than a madman," she said. "He's a traitor. He sold them off and tried to get me killed, Moony. My own father."

"I know, I know." Remus stopped as they reached the compartment in which the twins were waiting for her and gave her a hug. "Go, be with your friends," he said when he let go, giving her some chocolate against the Dementors' effects. "And remember that if he comes anywhere near you, Snape's gonna kill him."

Eileen laughed at that and wiped the tears off her eyes before entering the compartment.

"Are you alright?" Fred asked.

"Better," she said, nibbling on her chocolate.

"Who was that?" George asked, concerned.

"My uncle," she replied.

"Which one?"

"My godfather," she said. "He's the new DADA teacher."

"Is he the one who taught you to make a Patronus?" they questioned.

"No," she answered with more patience than she thought she had had. "That's my other uncle."

"The one you never talk about?" Fred asked, raising a brow.

"I don't talk about either of them," she said, confused and annoyed.

"But this one, you talk about even less," George said with a smile and she shrugged.

"Can't a girl have some privacy about her life?"

The twins exchanged a look before turning to her with face-wide grins.

"No."

* * *

"Potter! Granger! Black!" Eileen turned at the entrance to the Great Hall at the sound of her name being called and saw Professor McGonagall calling for her. "I want to see you all!"

"What did you do?" Cedric whispered in her ear.

"Nothing," she replied, walking towards the professor and meeting Harry and Hermione on the way.

"What did we do?" Harry asked and she shrugged.

"Really, the school year barely even started," she replied, annoyed. "Why does everybody think I did something?"

"Because you always do something," Hermione retorted as they followed McGonagall to her office and sat down.

"Professor Lupin sent an owl ahead to say you two were taken ill on the train," she said, and despite the constantly severe look on her face, Eileen could see she's worried.

"Of course he has," she muttered just as Madam Pomfrey came in.

"I'm fine," Harry said and McGonagall raised a brow.

"We are," Eileen insisted when she noticed the looks on the women's faces. "I sent the Dementors away at my compartment and Re- Professor Lupin did at theirs. And then he gave us all chocolates."

"He did?" Madam Pomfrey looked surprised. "So we've finally got a Defence against Dark Arts professor who knows his remedies."

"If you say so," McGonagall said and turned to look at us. "You are dismissed, then. I would like to have a private word with Miss Granger about her timetable," she added and we take our cue for leaving.

"You chased out the Dementors?" Harry asked me when we were waiting for Hermione, after Madam Pomfrey headed towards the hospital wing, muttering to herself.

"Barely," she replied shortly.

"I wish I could chase them out," he said longingly.

"What..." She paused pause for a moment, not certain how smart it would be to ask. "What did you hear? When they came?"

"I heard a woman scream," he says, "And a baby cry, and then it all turned black."

So he came back to that night, too, Eileen thought. We both had the same memory.

"Don't feel bad," she told him. "The Dementors... they bring back our worst memories. And with memories like yours, like ours..." she took a deep breath. "Some just have worse memories to go back to."

"What was your memory?" Harry asked and for a moment she genuinely considered telling him the truth. The need to decide on that matter, however, was saved from her by Hermione and McGonagall walking out and joining us.

"You've missed the Sorting," McGonagall said, "But the feast has yet to begun. If we'll hurry, we can get there in time for the Headmaster's speech."

The trio nodded and walked to the Great Hall, where Eileen tried her hardest not to stand out as she sat in the Gryffindor table next to George.

"Where were you?" he asked, concerned.

"McGonagall," Eileen said shortly.

"What did she want?" he asked.

"Remus told her I passed out," she whispered back.

He opened his mouth to reply when Dumbledore stood and everybody stopped talking.

"Hello," he called, "And welcome to another year at Hogwarts."

He went on with his speech, telling them all how Hagrid was now the new Care of Magical Creatures professor, and then introducing Remus as the new DADA teacher.

When she looked around the hall, Eileen saw only a handful of people clap as Remus nodded his head at Dumbledore. Only those who were in the cabin with him, the Weasley twins and herself, actually. _They know nothing_ , she thought. _He's the best teacher they'll ever have._

When she looked back at the teachers' table, she couldn’t help but notice the looks Sev was sending Remus. Looks she grew accustomed to during her childhood with those two men that could never get along. Looks of pure hatred.

When she was old enough to understand, they told her everything.

Sev told her about her mother and Lily, the two completely unseparated Gryffindors during their Hogwarts years and what little after they had. He told her about how he slowly grew apart from her mother, his twin, until she died at childbirth before he was given the chance to say goodbye, and about how he wrecked every chance to be with the love of his life, one terrible day at the end of their fifth year.

Moony told her about her father, Peter Pettigrew and James Potter, three boys who became friends with the weird, sick boy and went out of their way to help him however they can. When she started questioning why he missed weekend visits that fell on full moons, and why when she stayed at his house when Sev was at Hogwarts, she was sent away some nights, he told her the truth about his sickness and the nickname his friends put him with. On their first year, when the twins showed Eileen the map they found at Filch's office, he told her about the Marauders and Vulpes, though he never did tell her the meaning of any nickname but his own.

She remembered, clear as if it were only yesterday, the night they told her the truth about her father's imprisonment. The night before she started attending Hogwarts.

Moony said he didn't want the image of her father to be ruined, and Sev said she would find out one way or another, and that it was best if she heard it from them rather than rumours at the school. They told her all about the night James and Lily Potter died, and about how her father sent her to their house that afternoon.

They explained the true nature of the nightmares she was having since she could remember, nightmares of a cold laugh, a crying baby, a screaming woman and a bright, green light.

For weeks, she refused to talk either of them. Letters from Moony were sent back unread and interactions with Sev at school were limited to what was absolutely necessary. Out of that shared hatred for the Potions Master, and a curious event involving pumpkin juice at Transfiguration class, a friendship evolved between Eileen and two other Gryffindors at her class, Fred and George Weasley.

When Harry first came to Hogwarts, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him the truth about who she was and the connection they shared. How could she tell him that her father caused his parent's death, sending her to die as well?

However, she still felt a tinge of sadness when he didn’t recognize her, although she should have expected it – he was, after all, only a year old when they last met.

She remembered it all as Dumbledore spoke of the Dementors, warning the students from their powers and telling them the Dementors are not to be messed with. She thought of the effect just one of them had on her on the train.

_Dumbledore doesn't need to worry_ , she thought. _I'm not getting anywhere near those creatures._


	10. When the Bough Breaks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When the Bough Breaks:
> 
> Harry Potter + Once Upon a Time. Past Fremione. Eventual Hermione Granger/Hook. She was running away, again. She was good at that. Running away from the truth about Storybrooke. Running away from the truth about her father. Running away from the memory of Fred. She simply didn’t expect running away will lead her right back to where she started - Storybrooke, Maine, in front of her father’s pawn shop.

**England, 2001.**

A young woman was packing her little belongings into a purse too small for the amount it managed to carry. She did the task mechanically, trying her best not to think about what she was about to do.

On the bed besides her were three sealed letters, each of them for a different person. She hoped she had managed to explain her reasons well enough but deep down she knew it hardly mattered.

The chances that they would ever forgive her were slim.

She finished packing, taking one last look at the room and at the figure in the bed across from hers. While the other side of the room was messy and lively, her side looked like something one might see in a catalogue – lifeless and dull, waiting for someone to leave an imprint on it.

She smiled humorlessly to herself. Lifeless and dull. That pretty much summed up her life in the past three years.

She picked up a necklace from the night shed, holding back tears at the memories it provoked. On the necklace were three rings, one by the other – one of plastic, one of silver and one of gold.

It was the only reminder she was taking with her from the life she was leaving behind.

She took a deep breath, muttering a barely audible goodbye to the room, the house and the people in it. Then, she picked up a piece of wood from the table, and headed outside.

The moonlight shone upon her, guiding her around holes in the ground and what little animals in the bushes that didn’t ran away at the sound of someone approaching. She stopped only to open the gate before walking out and closing it, forcing herself not to look at the house behind her.

Moments later, she was gone.

* * *

 

**Enchanted Forest, 18 years earlier.**

Rumplestiltskin was in his cell, trying not to go mad at the lack of… well, anything to do, really. There were lines upon the walls, marking the number of days he spent in this room, but he didn’t bother to keep any count other than that.

His days were dull and the nights not much better, and it was hard enough to tell the difference between the two as it was without adding further trouble to his already troubled mind.

He closed his eyes, focusing on the prophecy that wasn’t going to fulfill for a good couple of decades.

Two girls. One with hair colored like the flowers of the golden chain and the other with hair like the branch from which the flower rose. One with soft waves that fell on her shoulders like the sea licks the sand, and the other with a mane like a lion's in the wind. One whom he'd known for years, and the other yet to be born.

And both with an air of magic around them – though for one of them it was strong, and for the other it was yet to be nurtured.

He was brought back to the real world by the sound of footsteps approaching him.

"When we reach the cell, stay out of the light," a male's voice, a voice that belonged to one of his guards, said. "And whatever you do, do not let him know your name. If he knows your name, he will have power over you."

_How ridiculous,_ he thought, hanging from the roof of his cell.

They honestly think he doesn’t already know. As if he hadn’t prophesied this visit, as well as the events that led to it. The only thing he hadn’t seen were the events that this visit would cause. And this meant he had a chance to manipulate them to his will.

"Rumplestiltskin," the guard called. "Rumplestiltskin! I have a question for you."

"No, you don't," Rumplestiltskin said, sliding down the bars to meet his visitors. "They do. Snow White and Prince Charming." He laughed manically at the way the two visibly tensed when they heard their names. "You insult me," he said, though there was no anger in his voice. "Step into the light and take off those ridiculous robes." The duo complied and he smiled. "Ah. That's much better."

"We've come to ask you about the –"

"Yes, yes!" Rumplestiltskin called out, interrupting Charming. "I know why you're here. You want to know about the queen's threat."

"Tell us what you know!" Snow ordered sharply, but it did nothing to scare him in any way. Prisoner or not, everyone here knew who held the power – and it was neither the two royals nor the guard that accompanied them.

"Tense, aren't we?" he asked them, the smile not leaving his face for a moment. "Fear not, for I can ease your mind, but it's gonna cost you something in return."

"No," Charming said. "This is a waste of time."

"What do you want?" Snow asked, making her husband look at her with disbelief.

"Two things," Rumplestiltskin replied. "The first, I'll tell you now and the second, after you agreed." There was no chance Snow White would disagree and he knew it. "The first… The name of your unborn child?"

"Absolutely not –"

"Deal," Snow cut into her husband's words. "What's the second one?"

"I'll be fair with you," Rumple said with a small laugh. "I'll tell you what you want, and then what you will do for me."

"What do you know?" Snow questioned.

"Ah," Rumplestiltskin sighed. "The queen has created a powerful curse, and it's coming. Soon you'll all be in a prison, just like me," he said, marking at the small room he resided in for who knows how long. "Only worse, for your prison, _all_ of our prisons will be time. For time will stop, and we will be trapped someplace horrible, where everything we hold dear, everything we love will be ripped from us, while we suffer for all eternity, while the queen celebrates, victorious at last!" he called out manically. "No more happy endings," he added, the smile drifting from his face for the first time since his guests arrived.

"What can we do?" Snow asked.

" _We_ can't do anything," Rumplestiltskin replied.

"Who can?"

"That little thing growing inside your belly," he said, reaching out a hand to touch it…

When Charming hit it with the blunt side of his sword.

"Next time I cut it off," he threatened.

"The infant is our only hope," Rumplestiltskin said, bringing his hand back into the cell. "Get the child to safety. Get the child to safety, and on its 28th birthday, the child will return. The child will find you, and the final battle will begin!"

"I've heard enough," Charming said. "We're leaving."

"Wait," Snow said, not taking her eyes off the imp in the cell. "What's the other part of the deal?"

Rumplestiltskin smiled. "Deep inside the forest, next to the ever flowing river, there is a cabin," he said. "And in that cabin – a woman, and a child." He pushed his head as far as he could between the bars of his cell. "When you get the little creature inside of you to safety, the child comes with. She will be safe and unharmed. She will escape the curse with the savior. And you will let me see her one last time before she will."

"Who is she?" Charming asked. "Why is she important?"

"That," Rumplestiltskin said, "Is for me to know, and for you to… well, not know."

Snow nodded, turning around and making a move to leave.

"Hey!" Rumple called out. "You! We made a deal! I want her name! We had a deal!" he repeated. " _I need her name_! _Her name_!"

"Her?" Charming asked. "It's a boy."

Oh, how little he knew.

"Missy," Rumplestiltskin called out. "Missy, you know I'm right. Tell me. What's her name?"

"Emma," Snow White whispered. "Her name is Emma."

She walked away, Charming following with her, and Rumple smiled to himself in his cell.

"Emma," he repeated. "Emma, and my little tiny Mini."

One with eyes like the sky, and one with eyes like the ground. And they both will be safe from Regina's curse.

* * *

**Heathrow Airport, 2001.**

_Last call for flight 647 to New York._

The young woman looked up from her book, moving a strand of hair from her face. She was so absorbed in it that she didn’t notice her plane was boarding passengers, and now it was already last call.

She stood up, her book still in her hand as she headed to the spot where two flight attendants were standing, a patched smile on their faces as they looked at her passport and ticket.

"Have a nice flight," one of them told her brightly.

The woman didn’t as much as look at them twice as she passed.

Her seat was one next to the passage, around the back of the plane. She put her bag under her seat as she sat down, book still grasped tightly in her hands. As the flight attendant explained what to do in case of an emergency, the woman only half-listened, and instead looked at the phone she bought just hours ago and rechecked the address she managed to discover.

_Number 45 Greenpoint Avenue._

"The plane is about to take off," the man who sat next to her said. "You better shut down your phone and buckle up."

"Thank you," she said politely, doing as he said and waiting.

It felt like the plane was driving around for hours, each second adding to the already stressed state the woman was in. When it finally took off, she held onto the armrests at each of her sides like a life savior.

The man next to her laughed. "First time flight, is it?" he asked.

"If humans were made to fly, we'd be born with wings," she muttered her usual reply to the matter of flying.

"Don't worry," he said. "Take offs and landings are the worst parts."

"I sure hope so," the woman said through gritted teeth. "Because I can't exactly see anything worse than this."

True enough, as soon as the plane stabilized in the air and the light guiding the passengers to keep their seatbelts on was off, the pressure in the woman's head subsided and she shakily let go of the armrests.

"That wasn’t so bad, was it?" the man next to her asked.

"Do you really want me to answer that question?" the woman muttered.

"Suppose not," the man smiled. "I'm Neal, by the way."

"Ginny," the woman lied thoughtlessly, throwing the first name that came into her mind.

"Nice to meet you, Ginny," Neal said, looking at her like he knew she was lying. "We might as well get friendly. After all, this _is_ a seven-hours-long flight –"

"How long?" 'Ginny' all but screeched, earning herself looks from people all around them. " _How_ long?" she repeated quietly.

"Seven hours and twenty minutes," Neal replied. "Unless there are delays."

"That sounds like a nightmare," 'Ginny' muttered.

"Should've checked that before you boarded the plane, don’t you think?" Neal asked.

"And what would I have done instead?" she questioned. "I needed to get to New York. There was no other option."

"Why did you need to get to New York?" Neal asked.

"Why did you?"

"Fair enough," Neal said with a smile. "I think I'm going to see if they have any alcohol. Want any?"

"Tequila," the woman replied, and Neal smiled.

"Atta girl!"

* * *

**Forbidden Forest, 18 years earlier.**

"I say, we fight!" Charming called at the gathering of the council.

"Fighting is a bad idea," Jiminy Cricket said. "Giving in to one's dark side never accomplishes anything."

"And how many wars has a clear conscience won?" Charming questioned. "We need to take the queen out before she can inflict her curse."

"Can we even trust Rumplestiltskin?" Doc asked.

"I've sent my men into the forest," Charming said. "They found the cabin he was talking about, and are now bringing the woman and the child here." He hesitated, before adding, "The woman said Rumplestiltskin made sure her children would never starve thanks to her taking care of the girl. And even from within his cell, he kept his promise."

"Looks like he has a little reason of his own to tell us the truth," Red said.

"This is going to happen," Charming said. "Unless we do something."

"There's no point," Snow said. "The future is written."

"No," Charming said determinedly. "I refuse to believe that. Good can't just lose."

"Maybe it can."

"No," Charming said, looking at his wife. "Not as long as we have each other. If you believe him about the curse, then you must believe him about our child. She will be the savior." He looked up at the opening of the door. "What the hell is this?"

"Our only hope of saving that child," the Blue Fairy said.

"A _tree_?" Grumpy questioned. "Our fate rests on a _tree_? Let's get back to the fighting thing."

"The tree is enchanted," Blue informed them. "If fashioned into a vessel, it can ward off any curse. Geppetto, can you build such a thing?"

"Me and my boy…" Geppetto said, ruffling Pinocchio's hair. "We can do it."

"This will work," the Blue Fairy said. "We all must have faith. There is, however, a catch," she added after a moment. "The enchantment is indeed powerful, but all power has its limits, and this tree can protect only two."

* * *

**New York City, 2001.**

Neal and 'Ginny' walked out of the airport together, Neal still bewildered about the fact that other than her small handbag, the woman had no luggage. Not that he had that many belongings himself, but still.

He couldn’t help but be intrigued by the young woman, who couldn’t have been more than a few years after graduation and still had a haunted look in her eyes, a look he only ever saw in the mirror.

"So," he started. "I suppose this is where we part ways."

"I suppose so," the woman agreed, nodding at him.

"Maybe…" he hesitated before moving on. "Maybe we could meet up sometime?"

The look of regret on 'Ginny's' face was perhaps the only true emotion she had shown since he met her – other than fear of flights.

"I… I can't," she said. "I need to sort out my life at the moment, and…"

"It's okay," Neal said. "I get it. I probably should do the same," he admitted, more to himself than to her. "But, if you ever want to…" He took out a small note and wrote his number on it. "Give me a call."

The woman nodded, watching as he hailed a cab and drove away. She neared the closest garbage bin, set on throwing his number away, but stopped. Who knows when she might use an ally – a _friend_ – in a city as big as New York?

She neatly folded the note and put it in her pocket, reminding herself to file it later on. Then, she hailed a cab and smiled slightly at the driver.

"Number 45 Greenpoint Avenue, please," she told him, and he nodded.

The woman didn’t look out of the window, admiring the city's view like most tourists do when they first reach it. Instead, she pulled out a small notebook and a pen from her bag.

_Neal,_ she wrote down, followed by his number. _New York City._

It wasn’t a long drive, thanks to the early hour of the morning that meant close to no traffic. In thirty minutes, she was already standing in front of the apartment door, knocking on it loudly.

"Just a moment!" she heard someone say.

There was a sound of someone moving from the other side of the door before it opened to reveal a man not much older than hers, standing shirtless in front of her.

"Expecting someone else, I suppose?" she asked, her eyes looking at his abs unappreciatively.

"You could say that," the man muttered. "Can I help you with anything?"

"Don't play dumb," the woman said. "It doesn’t look good on you."

"I'm sorry?" the man asked.

"You know exactly why I'm here," the woman said. "Just like you know exactly who I am. Just like _I_ know exactly who _you_ are, Pinocchio.  Wait," she added. "I believe you go by the name August Booth nowadays, don’t you?"

The man – August – sighed, before looking up and down the corridor to make sure there was nobody else who might overhear them. When he saw that there wasn’t, he turned his eyes back to the woman.

"Hermione," he said, not even bothering to put on a fake smile. "Come in."

And, much to his frustration, the young woman did just that.

* * *

**Enchanted Forest, 18 years earlier.**

The scared woman handed Rumplestiltskin the small girl, rushing backwards as soon as it left her hands.

"Go," he said, brushing a stray curl off the child's face. "Be with your children. Enjoy what little time you have before the curse hits you."

The woman needn’t be told twice, hurrying out of the tunnel and away like a dog with its tail between its legs. Rumplestiltskin didn’t even look at her, holding the girl close to his chest.

"Papa?" she asked. "It's you?"

"Yes, dearie," the imp cooed. "It's me. Papa's here, and everything will be alright."

"Papa, I'm scared," the girl said. "The scary men were talking about an Evil Queen who cast a mean curse!"

"It's okay," Rumple said. "The curse isn’t going to hurt you, Mini. Papa made sure of that."

"I missed you," the girl said, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. "I didn’t see you a long time!"

That was true. He wasn’t certain of how long he was in this cell, but Snow White wasn’t even showing when they locked him in, and now she was due to give birth any day.

"I know, dearie," he said, rubbing her back soothingly. "I know. But everything will be okay now. Go to sleep," he added.

"I can't," the child said. "I'm scared that I'll wake up and you wouldn’t be there."

"I'll be right here," Rumple said. "Go to sleep, Mini." The girl clung to him tighter and he sighed, starting to sing in a hushed voice. " _Hush a-bye baby, on the tree top._ " He popped the 'P' in his mouth and she giggled. " _When the wind blows, the cradle will rock._ " His hand started making a path from her head to her chest and back up. " _When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall._ " The girl fell asleep in his arms and he held her closer. " _And down would come baby, cradle and all._ "

"That is the creepiest lullaby I had ever heard," a voice said, and Rumplestiltskin looked up to see Prince Charming looking at him. "And that's saying something."

"I don’t go and judge _your_ parenting skills, do I?" Rumple bit out, though he made sure to talk quietly as to not wake the sleeping child.

"Whose child did you steal?" Charming questioned. "Another poor soul with which you made a deal like the one you tried with Cinderella?"

"Do not speak of things you know nothing of!" Rumple called, before immediately going back to calming down the girl in his arms. "I didn’t _steal_ her from anyone."

"Well, she can't be your child, can she?"

"Is it so hard to believe that I'm willing to take care of my kin?" Rumplestiltskin questioned. "Or is it just hard to believe that someone would be willing to have a child with me?"

"Honestly?" Charming asked. "Both." He looked at the girl. "If she is yours, how come nobody knew of her?"

"You know who I am," Rumple said. "You know what I have done. What do you think would happen should any of my enemies discover I have a young, vulnerable daughter? I assure you it wouldn’t end well for either of the sides involved."

"So you hid her," Charming said in understanding. "You lied. You even paid a woman to take care of her so she wouldn’t be traced back to you."

"Any parent would tear the world apart to keep their child safe," Rumple said. "You understand that now, I am certain."

"The difference is that not every parent has the ability to tear the world apart to keep their child safe," Charming retorted.

"But I do," Rumple said, stroking the side of the girl's face. "And so do you."

Charming's face hardened, before softening once more as he neared the cage where the imp was held. "What did you do to make her sleep?" he asked.

"It's a trick I used when she was young, after her mother died," Rumple replied. "Calms her down, no matter how stressed she is. But I…" he cleared his throat. "I also erased her memories of here. I want her to have a normal life in the other world. Everything I couldn’t give her."

"Do you think they'll be fine?" Charming asked. "Your daughter, and… and Emma?"

"I can only hope," Rumplestiltskin admitted, sounding like it hurt him to say he didn’t know something. "I know Emma will return to you on her twenty-eighth, but I don’t see anything about Mini. Never have."

"Mini?" Charming asked, chuckling to himself.

"Hermione," Rumple said. "Her mother chose the name." He looked at the girl in his arms a bit more before saying, "I suppose you need to take her away now, don’t you?"

"Geppetto is almost done building the wardrobe," Charming replied. "And the curse is nearly here. If we don’t do it now, we might lose our chance."

Rumple nodded, before leaning down and pressing a kiss to Hermione's forehead. "Papa loves you, Mini," he whispered. "Remember that."

Charming stepped forwards, and Rumple carefully placed the sleeping child in his arms.

"I'll take good care of her," he promised. "Snow is supposed to travel through the wardrobe with the girls. She'll be safe."

"She better," Rumplestiltskin warned. "Or when the curse is broken, you'll have me to answer to."

* * *

**New York City, 2001.**

As Hermione stepped into August's apartment, she looked around. It looked like the stereotype of a single man's apartment, clothes littering the living room and dirty mugs and plates in the sink.

"I'll have tea," she told him as she sat down, "With two teaspoons of sugar and just a dash of milk."

"I wasn’t offering," August muttered to himself.

"I wasn’t asking," she retorted.

August sighed, boiling up water for her tea and his coffee. He opened the fridge, revealing it to be nearly empty and sniffing several cartons of milk before finding one that didn’t smell rotten and using it to make the drinks. When he turned around, he saw Hermione made herself comfortable on his couch, quietly singing to herself.

_"Hush a-bye baby, on the tree top. When the wind blows, the cradle will rock…"_

"You do know this is the creepiest song ever, right?" August asked.

"Said the walking and talking Muppet."

The man cringed. "Fair point," he sighed, sitting down on the sofa across from her.

"How was Vancouver?" Hermione asked.

"Cold," August replied. "How was Devon?"

"Sad." Hermione took a sip from her tea before looking at him. "You're a hard man to find, August."

"You, on the other hand, are quite easy to locate," August retorted. "A Ladyship from her Majesty herself and at the mere age of 19, no less. Do you mind if I ask what did you do to achieve such a fit?"

"Actually," Hermione said tightly, "I do."

"Let's cut right to the chase, then," August said. "I know this isn’t a social call and I'm having a friend over in less than an hour. What do you want?"

"I already said you know why I'm here," Hermione told him. "I want to help."

"You want to help?" August questioned. "Go home."

"If you're going to be like that –"

"I mean it," August cut her off. "Go home. You'll do a better job monitoring things from there."

"I can't go home," Hermione said.

"Can't or won't?"

"Both," Hermione bit out, before pausing to take a breath that will calm her down. "The last time I saw my dad…"

"I know exactly what happened last time you saw your dad," August said. "Without it, you wouldn’t have been here. Your mind was still blissfully ignorant, your memories blocked."

"Memories can't be blocked forever," Hermione said.

"No, they can't." August stood up, going to the bag at the corner of the room and looking through it for a couple of moments before retrieving a file and handing it over to Hermione. "Look inside."

Hermione raised a brow but complied, her breath hitching in her throat as she opened the file to see the picture of a month old baby.

"Is that… hers?" she asked, shocked.

"Would I give it to you if it wasn’t?" August asked.

"Do I want to know who the father is?"

"I don’t know," August said. "Do you?"

There was a beat of silence, and then, "No."

"Thought so," August sighed. "Now, look at the name of the adoptive mother."

"Shouldn’t that information be classified?" Hermione muttered, half to herself.

"It should," August said. "Now shut up and look."

Hermione turned the page, her eyes widening.

"But… how?"

"I don’t know," August admitted. "This is either a stroke of luck, or –"

"Or the prophecy coming true," Hermione completed the sentence for him.

"Yes," August nodded. "Now, while I was digging up on you, I saw that your Minister offered you a job here at the States, but only at the condition that you start seeing a therapist. I heard there's a good one in Storybrooke… Jiminy Cricket, right?"

"Dr. Hopper," Hermione corrected automatically. "And I don’t need a therapist."

"You do if you want the job," August said. "And it will be a good enough excuse to go back to Storybrooke."

"I don’t want to go back," Hermione said.

"But you need to," August replied, leaning back on the sofa. "And even though this conversation can go on for another ten hours, we both know that you will. Because as much as you try to act like you don’t feel anything, you still care. And this is the right thing to do."

* * *

**Enchanted Forest, 18 years earlier.**

"Aah!" Snow White cried out in pain, lying on her bed. Charming couldn’t help but sneak glances at the sleeping four-year-old at the corner of the room, amazed that she still didn’t wake up. "Aah! No! No," Snow muttered as the contraction passed. "I can't… Have this baby now."

"Doc, please help me," Charming said, holding on to his wife as Doc wiped her forehead from sweat. "It's gonna be okay. The wardrobe's almost finished. Just… just hold on."

"It's ready," Geppetto called out, running into the room.

"It's too late," Doc said as Charming tried to carry his wife away. "We can't move her."

The prince swallowed hard, putting Snow back on the bed.

"Push," he said. "Push!"

The small baby came out, and Doc quickly made sure everything was alright before covering her with the blanket Snow made for her. He left the room along with Geppetto, giving the new parents some privacy.

"The wardrobe," Snow whispered in a broken voice. "It only takes two."

"Then our plan has failed," Charming said. "At least we're together."

"No," Snow said determinedly. "You have to take her, her and Hermione. Take the children to the wardrobe."

"Are you out of your mind?" he asked.

"No," Snow swallowed hard. "It's the only way. You have to send them."

"No," Charming said, shaking his head. "No, no, no, no. You don't know what you're saying."

"No, I do," Snow said. "We have to believe that she'll come back for us. We have to give her the best chance." Charming took a deep breath, kissing the top of his daughter's head. "Good-bye, Emma," Snow whispered.

Charming gently took the baby from his wife's hands before glancing at the sleeping child in the corner of the room. Yes, they made a deal with Rumplestiltskin, but he knew that if it was the imp in his position, he wouldn’t have hesitated putting his family before another's.

Then again, that's what made the difference between heroes and villains.

"Damn," he muttered, half to himself, as he shook the girl awake and handed her his daughter. "Hermione, I need you to listen to me," he said. "Hold her tight and don’t let go, alright?" The girl nodded sleepily and Charming swallowed hard. "Follow me."

He grabbed a sword and ran outside, the girl holding his daughter following him, still in a dazed state. When he saw two of the Queen's men, he told the girl to stay back before taking care of them and moving on, running into the room with the wardrobe.

"Enter here," he told Hermione. "And don’t forget. Hold Emma, and don’t let go."

"Don’t let go," the girl repeated, and Charming closed the wardrobe doors behind the two girls just before more soldiers walked into the room. "Find us," he whispered.

**Maine.**

The small girl almost fell out of the tree she suddenly found herself in, making sure to hold on to the baby in her hands, just like the man said. Another, older boy was next to her, introducing himself as Pinocchio before going to call for help. She didn’t supply her name, only held on to the infant in her arms.

Even when the police came to find them, she still didn’t let go. When somebody tried to take Emma away, she said she couldn’t, because the man told her not to let go. They asked what man, but she didn’t know to tell them.

She didn’t let go of Emma until she passed out from fatigue.

As years would pass, the events of the night would fade away into blurred memories.

Waking up from her sleep to see a woman crying and a man handing her the baby. Watching people fight with what she could have sworn was swords, if she didn’t know better. Her name, which she only knew because a strange man called her by it, added by the order to not let go.

Don’t let go.

_Don’t let go._

* * *

**New York City, 2001.**

Neal Cassidy paused mid-step as he saw a figure coming out of the building he was heading towards. He stared, wide eyed, as she hailed a cab, her brown curls almost getting stuck in the door as she closed it and drove away.

Looking up, he could see a familiar face watching her, before a pair of blue eyes turned to look at him and a curtain was shut closed.

He ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time before knocking at the door hastily, not even bothering to say hello before entering the apartment.

"Who is she?" he asked.

"Hello, Neal," August said, closing the door behind his guest. "Good to see you, too."

"I asked you a question," Neal said.

"I know," August said. "I heard you."

"This woman, who just left your apartment," Neal said. "I know her. She sat next to me on the plane."

August's eyes widened. "You didn’t…" he started. "Please, tell me the two of you didn’t…"

"We didn’t," Neal said, before sending a confused glance at the former puppet's direction. "Why?"

"I'll explain in a moment," August sighed. "Tea? Coffee?"

"Got anything stronger?" Neal asked.

"Gin it is."

August opened a cupboard, taking out two glasses and a bottle before heading towards the living room. Neal moved aside the empty cups of coffee and tea that were there, noting absentmindedly that they were still hot, before taking the glass the other man offered him and gulping it in one go.

"So she sat next to you on the plane?" August said, mimicking the action with his own glass before pouring another go of Gin to the two of them. "What're the odds?"

"She said her name was Ginny," Neal told him. "It isn’t, is it?"

"No," August verified. "Ginny is… _was_ one of her best friends."

"Dead?"

"No," August shook his head. "She left them. Packed her things in the middle of the night and got on a plane."

"My plane," Neal said in understanding. "Do I want to know who she is?"

"I don’t know," August said. "Do you?"

There was a beat of silence and then, "Yes."

August sighed, drinking his second glass. "Her name is Hermione," he said. "She got here with Emma and me, right before the curse hit."

"Through the wardrobe?" Neal asked. "How did she get that?"

"Snow White and Prince Charming made a deal," August explain. "With her… Papa."

"No," Neal whispered.

"Yes," August said.

Neal took a moment to process what he just found out before pulling a face. "I asked her on a _date_ ," he said. "Oh, god, I don’t know what I would have done if she didn’t refuse."

"Sure sounds like her," August said. "Hermione doesn’t do relationships."

"Who's her mother?" Neal questioned.

"Don’t know, didn’t ask," August replied. "And I'm pretty sure even if I did, she wouldn’t have told me. I don’t even know if she knows… if anybody but Rumplestiltskin knows."

"Where is she going now?" Neal asked.

"Home. She needs to take care of some things from there."

"She's going _there_?" Neal asked. "She can go there, but I can't?"

"It's different," August said. "She grew up there. Gold adopted her… without knowing who she really is."

"This is weird," Neal sighed. "This whole thing is weird."

"Tell me about it," August retorted. "I suppose you came here to get an update on Emma?"

"Yeah," Neal said. "How is she?"

"Got out of jail two weeks ago," August replied. "She got your little presents, by the way. I don’t think she forgives you, but I think she hates you just a little bit less."

"I don’t expect her forgiveness," Neal said. "I know I don’t deserve it."

"It was for her own good," August said. "Now she's back on path. To be the Savior, along with Hermione."

"Hermione's in it, too?" Neal asked. "Why didn’t you tell me there was someone else involved?"

"Because I was handling it by myself," August replied. "Besides, you didn’t need to know."

"Didn’t need to know," Neal repeated, fixing the other man a harsh glare. "Makes me wonder what else you're keeping from me."

"Nothing important," August lied without blinking. "Now, if you don’t mind, I believe we have other matters to discuss."

"We do," Neal nodded, and the two resumed their conversation about how to make sure Neal and Emma won't bump into each other, and how to keep Hermione from discovering Neal was her brother, and his relationship with Emma and August, all while keeping an eye on her.

One person saying the wrong thing, or being in the wrong place at the wrong time, and everything would be ruined. Emma and Hermione wouldn’t both be at Storybrooke when they needed to, and the town will stay living in a curse forever.


	11. All Around the Meadow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All Around the Meadow:
> 
> Hunger Games. Original Female Character/Haymitch Abernathy. When Anika’s name is called at the Reaping of the 59th Hunger Games, she knows she will do everything to survive. But even if you win, there is still a part of you that dies in the Arena, and as the Games go on, Haymitch starts fearing not only for the girl’s life, but for her sanity.

"All around the meadow as we do," a teenager sang as she brushed the hair of a younger girl, "One for me and one for you. All around the meadow as we sing, of the day I gave you my glass ring…"

"Anika!" a woman called out. "Are you all ready yet? We need to go, _now_!"

"We're coming, Miss Elbez," the teenager replied, picking up the girl from her knees and placing her on the ground.

"I don’t understand why we need to get going so early," another girl said. "It's barely ten."

"It takes time to get us all signed up, Barn," Anika said. "You know that."

"I know," Barn sighed. "I just wish we could sleep late for once."

Even though she wouldn’t say it aloud, Anika couldn’t agree more. Life at the Orphanage weren’t easy, and even on weekends the kids had to wake up early and help with the chores. Everybody _always_ had to help with the chores.

Instead of saying that aloud, Anika straightened the girls' dress uniforms, and looked at them. She was the oldest of the room, and therefore in charge of the eight other residents of it. All of them over twelve, and none of them applied for tesserae, they all have a chance – albeit a small one – to get Reaped today.

"Everything will be okay," she said, her eyes lingering a moment longer of the youngest of their room, Anna, for which it would be the first Reaping ceremony.

"Everything will be okay," the girls echoed, before following her out of the room, neatly divided into pairs.

"Are you ready?" a woman who stood next to the front door asked, only sending them half a glance as she looked over the other kids.

"Yes, Miss Elbez," the group chorused politely.

"Then we must get going," Miss Elbez said. "We're short enough on time as it is."

From the corner of her eye, Anika could see Barn rolling her eyes, though a sharp glare put a stop to it. It was only expected at an Orphanage of nearly a hundred children of different ages that it would take time to get arranged, even with the inner responsibilities.

Anika was only thirteen when she first became in charge of her room, and the first time she had to get them all arranged for Reaping she felt completely lost. But she learned how to deal with it, and quickly became one of Miss Elbez most trustworthy girls, helping in nearly every aspect of the Orphanage.

She suspected the older woman, who was close to retirement, planned on her to take over the Orphanage when she's of age. After all, not many children at the Orphanage learn how to deal with money, arranging chores and time management.

She looked at the eight girls of her care, eight girls she would give the world to.

They had nineteen paper slips, in total. Only nineteen, out of thousands, and still Anika couldn’t help but fear that it would be one of those names that would be called. She fixed Anna's skirt once more before sending her to stand in the back, next to the younger ones, and coming to a halt at her place next to Barn.

The slightly younger girl reached out a hand and Anika took it, not certain which of them was taking comfort of the other.

The two girls looked as the Mayor started his annual speech of the Dark Days, the rebellion, the Capitol's victory and the destruction of District 13. He then explained the Hunger Games, the Capitol's reminder that we must never go back to the Dark Days. The Capitol's way of keeping the Districts subdued.

He goes on to list of the names of District 12's victors – there had only been two, Borgia Cannel, who won the thirty fourth games, and Haymitch Abernathy, who won just nine years ago, at the Second Quarter Quell. Borgia died a couple of years ago – a terrible disease, said the Capitol headlines. An overdose of Morphline, said the gossip at the Market.

Haymitch was still alive – for now, at least – and was sitting on the chairs assigned to past victors, looking grim and holding a bottle of some alcoholic beverage. It started about three years ago, not long after Borgia's death. Nobody's certain if it was the other victor's death that caused it, or something else, but nobody saw Haymitch sober in years.

The Mayor sat down next to Haymitch and exchanged a quick word with him before turning quiet as the Capitol's escort, Josepha Kirov, headed to the front of the stage.

"Happy 59th Hunger Games!" she said, her tone not as bright as Anika remembered it to be from previous years and her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "And may the odds be ever in your favor!"

Unlike many others at District 12, Anika never sported hatred towards Josepha. She had a vague memory of her mother telling her that Josepha was escort when _she_ was a child, and Anika understood that the Capitol woman simply didn’t know any better.

"Ladies first!" Josepha called out, before stepping towards the girls' glass ball and searching in it for what seemed like an eternity before settling on a paper slip.

_Not Anna,_ Anika prayed, not daring to close her eyes as Barn's grip on her hand tightened. _Not Anna, or Natalie, or Jess, or Cary, or Dena, or Margery, or Nyssa, or Barn. Not my girls, anybody but my girls._

It seemed like it took Josepha years to open the paper slip, even though in reality it only took seconds. She readjusted her glasses, slowly reading out the name.

"Anika Rainolds!"

Heads turned to look at Anika, but she kept a straight face. Even ignoring the fact that most of Panem was watching this right now – and the rest would watch the reruns – there were eight terrified girls in the crowd at the moment, the eldest of which right next to her, and she needed to be strong for them.

"Ani!" she heard Anna's voice calling, and let go of Barn's hand.

"I've got it," the other teenager said, her voice thick with tears.

Anika could vaguely register the movement as she made way through the crowd and suddenly she was at the clearing, every eye and camera on her as she made her way towards the stage.

Haymitch looked at her with something akin to pity in his eyes. Josepha's smile was forced, but wide. Anika felt like she was going to be sick.

"Are there any female volunteers?"

The crowd was so silent Anika could hear Anna's soft sobs. There were never any volunteers in District 12.

"Out female tribute, Anika Rainolds!" Josepha declared after a minute or so. "And now, to the boys!"

The process repeated itself, but this time Anika paid less attention. Other than the boys in her class, she wasn’t very familiar with male teenagers in the District, and she wasn’t close to any of those she knew.

Whoever was going to get Reaped, she had no attachment to them. She didn’t know them. They wouldn’t distract her from the voice n her head, screaming at her to do whatever it takes to survive.

"Richard Haste!"

A boy of about thirteen years old slowly started making his way to the stage, his expression one that Anika now knew all too well. She never thought walking all of thirty feet could be so hard until today.

"Are there any male volunteers?" Josepha asked, waiting less time now before declaring, "Our male tribute, Richard Haste!"

Anika glanced at the boy who stood on Josepha's other side, only for him to avert his eyes as soon as they met hers. Even so, the moment their eyes met she knew they were thinking the exact same thing.

It was absolutely pointless to repeat their names once they were chosen.

Josepha resumed talking, but Anika was no longer listening. Her eyes searched the crowd until they found Anna, who was weeping into Barn's shoulder. As if feeling she was being watched, Barn looked up, her eyes locking onto Ani's.

'See you soon,' she mouthed before going back to comforting the younger girl.

Anika swallowed hard as Josephine told her to shake hands with Richard. There was heaviness in her chest that only tightened when he refused to meet her eyes. All too soon, the ceremony was over and the Peacekeepers took her away, the eyes of people whose names she might never get the chance to learn following her as she went.

As they went up the rusty elevator of the Justice Building, Anika tried her hardest not to remember the last time she was in the building. She was barely seven years old, and yet the memory was still as vivid as if it was only yesterday.

The day when she got not one, but two honorary medals for her parents who dies in the mines.

She was led into a room where she was told to wait until her visitors came to say what might be a last goodbye, and sat on the dusty bed. She didn’t know how long it was until the door opened, but it didn’t feel like enough time for her to calm down, even though she knew she should.

Her girls were coming to see her, and even though it was her who was sent off to almost certain death, she still felt she needed to be strong for them.

She briefly wondered if this feeling will ever go away, before remembering that in a month she might not be alive to feel anything.

"Ani!"

Anika barely held back tears as eight girls – _her_ girls – entered the room. They paired together, as usual, but Barn didn’t seem able to hold Anna in place and the others looked like they were seconds away from following the youngest girl and jumping on Anika in a tight hug.

"Come here," she said over Anna's head, and the girls didn’t wait to be told twice before running to her. "Be good," she told them. "Do as you're told. Barn's going to be in charge of you from now on, and I don’t want you to give her a hard time."

"Ani…" Barn started, pulling back from the hug to look at her.

"Don't," Anika said shortly. "Even if I do come back, I won't go back to the Orphanage."

_And my chances of coming back are very slim, as it is,_ was left unsaid between the duo.

"I don’t want you to go," Anna whispered into her chest.

"And I don’t want to go, either," Anika replied. "But I must." She gave herself another moment to enjoy the presence of the girls before speaking again. "Can I have a moment with Barn? Alone?"

"Ani…"

"Please?"

The girls wiped away tears as they pulled back but complied nonetheless, leaving the two oldest girls alone. Anika decided that going straight down to business would be best, not wasting time she probably didn’t have.

"Cary has nightmares," she said. "During the games and for about a month after they end. She'll crawl into bed with you. And I'm pretty sure Natalie's friends with Richard, so she'll need you to be there for her." Barn nodded and Anika swallowed hard before resuming. "If I die –"

"Don't say that –"

"If I die," Anika went on as if she wasn’t interrupted, "Don't let Anna watch. Cover her eyes, make her turn away, distract her in any way you can, just don’t let her watch me die."

"Don't you dare," Barn said. "Don’t you dare die there!"

"I'll do my best," Anika said, her voice breaking with the effort to hold back tears.

"You better," Barn warned, before resting her head on Anika's shoulder. "What will I do without you?"

"You'll move on," Ani replied, kissing the top of the other girl's head.

"I'll do my best," Barn said, bringing a smile to Anika's face.

"You better."

All too soon, the Peacekeepers arrived and had to drag Barn out of Anika's grip and out of the room.

"Anika!" her voice could be heard as the doors slammed shut.

Ani didn’t allow herself to respond.

She closed her eyes, trying to get her breathing evened before the Peacekeepers came to take her to the train station, where more cameras will wait. She didn’t expect any other visitors, which was why she jumped in surprise as the door opened. Her surprise only grew when she saw who it was.

"Anika," Miss Elbez said softly, and for a moment, Anika didn’t think she was ever so grateful in her life.

She wrapped her arms around the old woman, hugging her tightly as, for the first time since her name was called, she was allowed not to be strong. Tears never came to her eyes, but the feeling of someone taking care of you, caring for you… there was nothing more that she could ask for.

"Listen to me," Miss Elbez said after a minute or so. "We don’t have much time. Your upper body strength is bigger than you think it is – I know you climbed up the roof more than once when one of the older boys threw things on it. And I've seen you dance, you've got cardio. You can climb and you can run, which will make it harder to catch you, and if you can lift three girls at once, you can lift nearly any heavy weight you want."

"Miss Elbez…" Anika said. "What good will it do? There are tributes that have been training their whole lives for this. I don’t stand a chance."

"Not if you keep up this attitude, you don’t," Miss Elbez said sharply. "Now keep your mouth shut. I have a lot to tell you."

Anika closed her mouth, knowing it was better to listen to what Miss Elbez had to say before speaking her mind. The older woman nodded appreciatively before moving on.

"You're not as plain as most kids from Twelve are," she said, taking a strand of Anika's red hair in her hand. "Your hair might be enough to make you memorable, but that depends on the Stylist you get. Remember – you don’t have to be unforgettable – you just have to be memorable.

"You have three days of training in the Capitol before the games start. Go through everything you can. You're a quick learner, and you don’t need to be flawless. It's better to be good in a lot of things, than to be great at one and rubbish at the others.

"And make Haymitch remember you," she added. "Make him care about you, and you have more chances of him helping you through it."

"Miss Elbez," Anika said slowly. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because when I look at you, I see a winner," Miss Elbez replied simply. "And I don’t like to be wrong. Here," she added, reaching into her pocket and taking out a bracelet. "Barn didn’t have time to give you this. She wanted you to take it with you."

Anika looked, wide eyed, as Miss Elbez tied the beautiful bracelet around her wrist. She recognized it, of course. It was the only thing Barn had left of her mother, a golden bracelet that passed from mother to daughter in her family for years.

"I… I could never…" she stuttered, amazed by the gesture.

"You can and you will," Miss Elbez replied sternly. "If you really want, return it to her when you come back."

Anika closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

"Tell her I said thank you," she said.

"You can tell her yourself when you'll come back," Miss Elbez said, just as the door opened and a Peacekeeper made a move to grab her arm. "I can walk by myself," she bit out at him, before doing just that.

Anika started at the bracelet on her wrist, thinking about all that Miss Elbez told her. It seemed like she truly believed Anika had a chance, for some reason beyond Ani's understanding. Nobody else thought she had a chance.

Shaking the thought away from her head, she stood up and started singing softly to herself. Her voice was rough and uneven, but the song was nothing more than background in the room as she started dancing to the tune coming out of her mouth.

_"All around the meadow as we do,_  
Two for me and none for you.  
All around the meadow as we sing,  
A boy, a girl and two glass rings.

She didn’t see the movement out of the door, didn’t see the man who stopped at the sound of the song he hadn’t heard in years. He looked through the peephole, entranced by her movements as she danced away her worries.

_"All around the meadow as we do,_  
One for me and one for you.  
All around the meadow as we sing,  
Of the day I gave you my glass ring.

The Peacekeepers came to accompany the girl to the train and the man stepped aside, disappearing from view before she caught sight of him. He needed to get to the train station, as well, but he was currently waiting for Josepha to walk out of a conversation with the Mayor.

As he looked at Anika's retreating back, he noticed she was no longer singing. Even so, the last verse of the song played around in his head the words coming out in Anika's voice, even in his mind.

_"All around the meadow as we do,_  
None for me and two for you.  
All around the meadow as we sing,  
One broken heart and two broken rings.

And as he stood there, waiting for the escort to join him on their trip to their train, Haymitch Abernathy couldn’t help but wipe away a stray tear.


	12. Minds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minds:
> 
> Harry Potter + Sherlock. After the death of her mother, and with her father as unavailable as ever, Hermione is going to see her uncle in hopes that he could help. She should have expected that being the niece of the man who practically controlled Great Britain and the daughter of a high functioning sociopath is going to make her life that much more complicated. Starts right before Book Six.

A young woman stood and looked at the freshly dug grave in front of her. Tears were burning in the back of her eyes, but no matter how hard she tried, they wouldn’t come out.

She stared at the words in front of her, unable to accept them as truly referring to the woman she knew they spoke of. Unable to accept the fact that she was truly gone.

_"Caring mother."_

Swallowing hard, she turned away from the grave and headed towards the exit.

It seemed bizarre. Unreal. Just a week ago, she returned home from the passing school year, and today, her mother was dead and brought to rest.

_It shouldn’t be like this,_ she thought to herself. _Nothing that had happened should be the way it was._

She exited the cemetery and started heading towards the nearest Tube Station, no real destination in her mind, when a black car with dark dimmed windows stopped next to her. One of the windows opened to reveal a woman wearing a suit, texting on her phone.

"In," the woman said shortly, and the teenager sighed before complying.

* * *

There is a place in London, a 'club', as some may call it, that isn’t known to many. Even though it is in the very centre of the city, most people don’t spare it a second look, labelling it as another of the prestigious places reserved only to those with a great amount of money.

Those people are partly correct in their assumption.

Those who know about the place do not speak of it very often, and most of those who do refer to it as 'The Silence Club'. The very few remaining choose to use the name its founders gave it – 'The Diogenes Club'.

One of the things that made this club unique, in opposed for other prestigious places reserved only to those with a great amount of money, was the silence policy, which declared speaking forbidden in any and all parts of the club, apart from one room.

At the moment, the single occupant of the room was Mycroft Holmes. He had arranged for a meeting to take place in the room, and was expecting his guest to arrive at any moment. They had much to talk about, and he preferred to start as soon as they could so that they would be done before it was completely dark outside.

At those times, and with everything that was going on, anyone with the hint of a brain between their ears did not walk alone outside after nightfall.

The door of the room opened and he stood up from the couch he was seating on, greeting the young woman who entered.

"Hermione," he said, an expression that could have been mistaken for a smile gracing his face. "It had been too long."

"So it appears," the teenager said, seating on the couch across from him as he sat back down. "You wished to see me?"

"Yes," Mycroft replied. "I'm sorry if the time of the meeting is inconvenient, considering everything that is going on. I must say, it was a beautiful ceremony –"

"I would have asked how you would know, seeing as you weren’t there, but I'd like to believe I know better by now," the young woman replied, her voice tense.

"So would I," Mycroft nodded. "I know it might seem harsh to do it now, but we have much to discuss and not nearly enough time to do so as I'd have liked. First, we need to see where you will be staying for the rest of the summer holiday. I believe it unnecessarily dangerous and impractical for you to return to your old house, though I do suggest we set up a time to go through the belongings in it and decide what we should keep and what isn't needed, as well as what we should do with the property itself."

"How about the beginning of next week?" Hermione suggested weakly. "That way, it gives me enough time to settle into... wherever it is I will be staying, but still not too long for me to be missing anything of importance that might still be in the house."

"Is Tuesday good for you?" Mycroft asked.

"I don’t see why not," the teenager said. "It's not like I have anything better to do than go through my house and collect the last reminders I have of my deceased mother." She could feel the tears behind her eyes again and closed them tight. "How did this happen?" she questioned.

"Your mother's disease was very aggressive," Mycroft said. "The tumour in her brain was too big to be removed by surgery and when it caused a stroke –"

"I know the technicalities of my mother's cancer, thank you very much," Hermione bit out. "What I am asking is how is it possible that only yesterday morning I was watching a movie with her, and today I am planning to clear out our house."

Mycroft swallowed hard, reaching out a hand and placing it on the teenager's. "I'm sorry for your loss," he said.

Hermione's eyes darted up to meet his as she pulled her hand away from his reach. "Many say that if you have nothing nice to say then it is better to say nothing," she started. "That is twice as true for if you have nothing honest to say. You didn't like my mother, you never did. You couldn’t be more indifferent to the fact that she had died. Caring is a disadvantage, and you do not care so don’t you _dare_ tell me you are sorry for my loss, when we both know that to be far from true."

Mycroft leaned back into his chair, his indifferent expression mirroring that of the woman in front of him. "Living arrangements?" he asked.

"What about father?" Hermione offered.

"In rehab again," Mycroft said. "There's no way of knowing when he will be let out and how long it will last this time."

"Should I start making arrangements with my friend's family?" Hermione questioned.

"The options are either that or accompanying me wherever I go for the coming two months."

"I'll write a letter to Mrs. Weasley today."

"Thought as much."

For the first time that day, something that could be passed as a smile crossed Hermione's face. "Anything else you wanted to discuss?" she asked, reaching out for her tea.

"Yes, for a matter of fact," Mycroft said, waiting until the teacup reached Hermione's lips for maximum effect of his next sentence. "I was wondering why I had to hear about the maniac murderer back from the dead not from you, but from the imbecile you call 'Minister'."

Hermione paused, setting her teacup back next to her as if it was never touched.

"Well, we don’t call him 'Minister' anymore," she noted. "He was ousted as soon as the population realized he spent the past year feeding them false truths."

"I met them both," Mycroft said before comprehending what she said. "You've known for a _year_?" he questioned.

"More or less," Hermione said. "Voldemort came back from the dead – if you can call it that – on June 24th of last year, and I returned home for three weeks before spending the rest of summer at Headquarters –"

"You said you were staying with Harry's Godfather," Mycroft accused.

"I was," Hermione replied. "His house was Headquarters."

"Headquarters of _what_ , if I may ask?"

"The Order of the Phoenix," Hermione said. "It's a secret society founded by Professor Dumbledore – my headmaster – in order to fight Voldemort."

"He let children fight this madman?" Mycroft asked.

"Don't be ridiculous," Hermione snorted. "You have to be of age _and_ no longer be at school in order to be in the Order. We were simply stationed there for our safety."

"What about the safety of your mother?" Mycroft questioned, making Hermione's eyes flash dangerously.

"If you believe even for one moment there weren’t as many protection charms on my mother's house as the Ministry of Magic had put on yours, you're an outright fool," she told him.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this before today?" Mycroft questioned further. "I have influence in both worlds, I could have helped."

"And how would I introduce you to the Order?" Hermione questioned. "Hello everyone, meet Mycroft Holmes, also known as my uncle and the bloody British government!"

"So your solution was to keep me in the dark?"

"My solution was to keep everything at a need-to-know basis," Hermione informed him, deciding to make a second attempt at her tea. "I'm sure you'd know all about _that_."

"I never kept away any information that could have endangered you!"

"And neither did I!"

"Sir?"

A soft spoken voice coming from the doorway to the room brought the uncle and niece back to reality, and they both leaned back down into their chairs before turning to the doorman who stood there.

"Yes?" Mycroft asked, his tone much calmer than it was just moments ago.

"Your bodyguard is here to take you to your meeting with the Prime Minister."

"Send him in," Mycroft ordered, before turning back to Hermione. "This conversation is far from over," he warned.

"Trust me, I know," Hermione muttered, putting down her cup before standing up. "All in all, it was good to see you, Uncle."

"As it was to see you," Mycroft replied.

"Sir?" a dark skinned man asked as he walked into the room. "We need to get going soon or you'll be – Hermione?"

"Kingsley," Hermione breathed out.

"You two know each other, then?" Mycroft asked, looking between the two.

"We have some mutual... acquaintances," Hermione muttered, knowing the hidden meaning behind her words was not at all hidden to her uncle's ears.

"In that case, I believe a renewed introduction is in order," Mycroft said, reaching out a hand towards Kingsley. "Mycroft Holmes, also known as Hermione's uncle and the British Government."

Hermione let out a huff of annoyance as she sat back down in her chair. "I bloody hate you."

* * *

Twenty minutes, a call to the Prime Minister and an entire teapot later, Hermione and Mycroft were done explaining everything to Kingsley, who sat next to them with a shocked expression on his face.

"You never said anything," he told Hermione. "Not to Dumbledore, not to any of the Order members... do Harry and Ron even know?"

"No," Mycroft replied for his niece. "A job like mine creates enemies, many of which I do not even know of, and my brother has the unfortunate hobby of creating his own enemies personally. The more people who knew about our relations, the more danger Hermione would be in."

"There is close to no contact between my father and myself at all," Hermione added. "I lived with my mother, and used her maiden name for everything since preschool. I didn't see a reason to change that when I started attending Hogwarts, and it was too complicated to start explaining later on."

"And nobody knows?" Kingsley asked once more. "Nobody at all?"

"It was information granted on a need-to-know basis," Mycroft said.

"So now you have no problem with a need-to-know basis," Hermione muttered.

"Is now really the time?"

"Yes, now really is the time!"

"Er..." Two heads turned back to look at Kingsley. "If you don’t mind me asking, if it's so important that nobody knows of Hermione, isn't it a bit risky to bring her here?"

"We didn't have much of a choice," Mycroft said. "This is one of the more secure locations in London, and Hermione and I had to discuss the technicalities of where she should spend the remaining summer vacation."

"I was planning on contacting Mrs. Weasley later tonight," Hermione said. "With any luck, I could have gotten there in a couple of days."

"And where would you have stayed in the meanwhile?" Kingsley asked.

"Back home," Hermione said.

"I secured a hotel room for her," Mycroft replied at the same time.

A smile tugged at the corner of Kingsley's lips. "If I may suggest," he started, "I could get Hermione to the Burrow in no time. It may not be as polite, but in times like these practicality and safety comes first."

"I couldn’t agree more," Mycroft said, giving Hermione a harsh glare. "Now, should we head out? I believe if we left now we might still be in time for the end of the –"

A scream coming from the slightly ajar window cut Mycroft off in the middle of the sentence, sending the three people in the room towards it to look outside.

"It looks like a body," Mycroft stated.

"It's Emmeline," Kingsley breathed out shakily. "Emmeline Vance."

Even though she didn't recognize the body, the name triggered a memory in Hermione's head. "She's an Order member, isn't she?" she asked. "What was she doing in this area of Muggle London?"

"Whatever it is, it was important enough to get her killed," Mycroft said. "Kingsley –"

"I'll get Hermione to the Burrow," Kingsley nodded.

"But what about Mycroft?" Hermione asked.

"You're more important," Kingsley stated before glancing at the other man. "No offence."

"None taken," Mycroft replied. "I completely agree. Hermione," he added, "Stay safe, take care, use your head. If you make sure to do those three things, everything will be alright."

"Stay safe, take care, use your head," Hermione repeated. "Got it."

Mycroft nodded at her, swallowing hard before doing something none of the people in the room expected and pulling her into a short hug.

"Call me if you can and send letters if you can't," he said. "I'll see you on Tuesday if it will be safe enough."

"Okay," Hermione nodded, returning the hug shortly before pulling back and following Kingsley out of the room.

"We don’t know how long ago Emmeline was killed, so we have to assume there are still Death Eaters nearby," he said quietly as they started running. "I'm ordering a secure car to pick us up from the back and we will drive to a secondary location where we can Apparate."

"If we're taking the car, how will Mycroft get out?" Hermione asked.

"He won't," Kingsley replied. "We're pretty much counting on any enemies in the perimeter to assume he left in the car we're taking. If someone would follow us, they'll find the car empty five blocks from here in the opposite direction to your uncle's apartment."

He opened the back door, hurrying Hermione into the same car she came in, this time sans Anthea. Once she was inside, he entered the driver's seat and drove away, breaking about ten different traffic laws during the first minute of the trip alone.

"If you could please get us there without dying, it would be much appreciated," Hermione told him from where she was tossed around in the backseat.

"That's what I'm trying to do," Kingsley said, making a sharp turn.

"It's not much use to get away from Death Eaters if we die in a car accident," she retorted.

"Do you trust me?" Kingsley questioned.

"Yes," Hermione replied without hesitation.

"So shut up, we're almost there."

Hermione did as she was told, holding on to anything she could as Kingsley drove the car for another minute before abruptly stopping.

"Out," he said shortly, and Hermione followed him into an alley. "Give me your hand."

Hermione eyed the arm he offered, swallowing hard before grabbing it and being tossed into a world of bright lights and muffled noises while feeling as if her body was being crushed from all sides. It lasted for what felt like an eternity before stopping as abruptly as it started, sending Hermione to the ground.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Kingsley sending a Patronus at the general direction of the house she saw when they landed, but she was too busy retching what little she ate during the past couple of days to pay attention to what was being said.

Kingsley leaned next to her, rubbing circles up her back as she calmed down, the stress of the day and the sickening feeling of Apparition fading away in favour of shaking and shivering.

"Dear Merlin!" Hermione heard Mrs. Weasley's voice calling. "Kingsley, is she alright?"

"She will be," Kingsley nodded. "I have to go, but Hermione will explain whatever she can right now and I'll explain the rest tomorrow at the meeting. Hermione?" The teenager raised her head to look at the Auror. "I'll owl you tonight and will talk to you tomorrow. Do as your uncle said and everything will be alright."

Hermione nodded, bringing her sleeve up to her mouth to clean the remaining vomit before allowing Mrs. Weasley to help her to her feet as Kingsley Apparated away.

"Are you okay?" Mrs. Weasley asked worriedly as she helped the younger witch into the house.

"No," Hermione said, her voice hoarse.

"Do you want to talk about it?" the older woman questioned.

"No."

Mrs. Weasley sighed, before calling out in worry as Hermione's body started slipping down. Moments later, the teenager was sprawled on the warm ground, unconscious.


	13. My Immortal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My Immortal:
> 
> Doctor Who. Original Female Character/Captain Jack Harkness. The only possession Kate Lambert ever had was an old, broken cob watch. At the age of sixteen, she is convicted of multiple thefts and sent for prison before Jack Harkness offers her a deal - To serve her sentence at Torchwood and use her skills to help them. She had no idea what she was getting herself into when she agreed.

_A young woman was sitting on a couch in front of another man, playing with her fingers nervously. The man looked at her with a soft smile, already knowing her well enough to tell he wasn’t the cause to her nervousness, but rather something else was._

_“Are you ready to talk about it?” he asked._

_“I don’t know,” she replied. “It’s complicated.”_

_“Few things aren’t,” he commented and she smiled._

_“It’s just… I’m not sure how am I supposed to do it.”_

_“Well,” he said, “there are two possible ways. Back to front or front to back.”_

_“Well, that isn’t very helpful,” she huffed. “I don’t…” she trailed off._

_“Do you know how it ends?”_

_She looked up at him in disbelief._

_“I know how it ends,” she said as if the mere notion of asking her the question was a personal insult. “Of course I know. I just… forgot how it began.”_

_“Would you care to try?”_

_The woman closed her eyes, focusing in concentration. “Milky Way…” she muttered. “Planet Sol Three – no. Planet Earth. Twentieth century… late twenties century, and it was a September day.” Her eyes opened and she looked ahead at the man in front of her, an odd expression crossing her features. “The Earth day of September 2 nd, 1995,” she finally stated. “That’s when it began.”_

**_September 2 nd 1995._ **

The two men were sitting in the car and looking at the scene that took place on the other side of the street from them. One of them, Alex Hopkins, was tapping against his leg impatiently, occasionally looking at the men to his right.

"I don’t understand what you want me to see," he muttered, his local Cardiff accent thick in his mouth. "It's just a street girl getting robbed by other street folk."

"Wait for it," Jack Harkness said patiently, not taking his eyes off the girl. "Any moment now…"

As if reading his thoughts, the girl who gave all of her belongings and money to the group of older boys in front of her started arguing with the leader of the group. He seemed to want to take another thing – one the girl was unwilling to give.

"Is she crazy?" Alex asked. "She's on bloody gunpoint, and even if she weren’t – she's outnumbered."

"Wait for it," Jack repeated, looking closely and instructing his boss to do the same.

The leader snapped as he said something and raised his gun for better aim on the girl, and that was when she acted. It only took one fluent movement for her to disarm the boy, and another couple of seconds to unload the gun without looking.

She told the leader of the group something, her face twisting in anger before throwing the gun to the ground and pulling her empty bag back over her shoulder. Then, she ran away, not even bothering to ask for her things back.

"What the hell had just happened?" Alex muttered in shock.

"What I wanted you to see," Jack replied. "This girl is Kate Lambert – she was found on the doorstep of Cole Orphanage in 1982 with no memory of her parents or anything other than her name. In the list of her possessions was an old cob watch."

"How old is she now?" Alex asked.

"Fifteen," Jack replied. "She's been living in the streets for about three or four years by now and before you ask – she has no associations to any of the gangs in the city."

"Where did she learn to do that?" Alex questioned. "Was she trained or something?"

"Nothing," Jack said. "It seems like a natural gift – not the only one, too."

"She just disarmed a boy and secured his gun in less than a minute and you're telling me there's more?"

"Yes," Jack said with half a smile. "Apparently, she has quite the talent for breaking and entering. She's a suspect in close to twenty open investigations, but she keeps running from the police. Nobody knows how she's doing it."

"There's got to be something more, though," Alex said. "This isn’t enough to put her on your radar."

"It isn’t," Jack agreed. "But I managed to find a connection between the power outage during the storm in February and one of the break-ins she's accused of. My theory is that she cut off the power under the guise of the storm to disable the security system."

"It could’ve been just a power outage," Alex suggested.

"One that shut down the power in the Hub?" Jack questioned. "You know as well as I do that it had to be deliberate."

"And you think that a sixteen year old managed to do this?" Alex questioned.

"No," Jack said. "I think that a sixteen year old Torchwood has a file on since she's a baby managed to do this."

From Alex's silence, Jack knew he managed to convince his boss to give the girl another chance to impress him, and maybe even recruit her.

* * *

The young girl was breathing heavily, holding on to the hiding place she had found in the hopes that her body won't fail her. Men were roaming the flat she was in, searching for her as she tried to understand what had she done wrong this time.

She was certain that she disabled the alarm before walking in, and that none of the neighbors saw her. And yet, the police had arrived for her, not for the first time in her short life.

"Check the ceiling," the familiar voice of Det. Spencer said.

"The ceiling, sir?" one of the other cops asked.

"Just do it," Spencer ordered.

Her heart started beating faster and faster. She couldn’t allow herself to get caught again. Her hands were aching from the uncomfortable position she was in, and her eyelids fluttered, nearly giving in to the tired state she was in.

She hadn’t slept in a week.

Two officers walked into the room, guns out. The searched inside the closet and underneath the bed before giving in to the odd order their commander gave them and looking up at the ceiling.

"She's here!" one of them called, clearly surprised.

"Slowly get down," the other ordered, aiming his pistol at her. "I am allowed to shoot you if you're causing too much trouble."

Sighing, she let her feet go from the surface that was holding them and swung for a moment from her hands before gracefully descending to the floor and raising her hands in the air.

"Lambert," Spencer greeted, the hatred clear in his voice.

"Come on, Dan," she teased. "You can call me Kate by now. I think we reached that point, seeing as this is our seventh date."

"Eighth," he corrected. "You forgot the Queen's Day."

"Yes, well, I haven’t broken any laws back there, and you didn’t arrest me," Kate noted. "It's like calling a date of coming to my flat and eating my food."

"Where _is_ your flat?" he asked, wondering if maybe this time luck would be enough for her to tell him.

"Wouldn’t you like to know?" she asked, winking at him.

"Cuff her and check for anything," Spencer ordered. "Don’t leave a toothpick on her person."

"What can I already do with a toothpick?" she wondered aloud, silently thanking Roger and his gang for robbing her of any incriminating objects earlier today, as well as cursing them for being the trigger need to this break in as she needed food. "Well, quite a lot, when you come to think about it. The first of which would probably be to pick at my teeth. Give it back!" she added angrily as one of the officers tried to take her old cob watch.

"Take it," Spencer said without blinking.

"No!" Kate called. "Give it back!"

"It's just a watch," the officer said.

"She's probably afraid we'd realize it's stolen," Spencer shrugged.

"It's not stolen!" she protested. "It's the only thing I have which is mine!"

Spencer stared at her for a moment. "Give it back," he said, realizing his prisoner wasn’t lying. "Mark everything else as evidence. I got you this time," he told Kate with a mean smile.

"Isn't that what you said last time?" she asked. "And the time before, and the time before?"

"Enjoy while you still can," he said, smiling wickedly. "There's a special place in the nearest Youth Offender Institution, just for you."

"In your dreams, old man," she laughed.

"Take her out of here," he told the officers.

"Five days!" she called, causing him to turn around.

"What?" he asked.

"Mark my words," she said slowly. "In five days, I'll be out and free."

"Well, then mark my words," he retorted, copying her. "Good luck."

**_Six months later_ **

Nineteen. Nineteen failed escape attempts. A couple of them were better than others, and in the last three she even managed to escape the secure Youth Prison they were holding her in, but Spencer always caught her not even twenty four hours later.

It had been three weeks since her last attempt, and she knew the guards were on edge, certain that she was planning something even though she wasn’t. She lost hope.

She still had close to two years to spend here, before being transferred to HMYOI where she would spend the rest of her sentence out of a whole of ten years.

The room she was currently resided in wasn’t big. It was a room just small enough for her to feel claustrophobic, just empty enough for her to feel helpless. It was the most guarded room in the building, and she was there since her last attempt, isolated from the world.

_This isn’t jail,_ she thought to herself. _This is Hell._

Some of the other girls here got visitors. Family, the occasional friend, a boyfriend in some rare cases. Someone who was waiting for them outside. Kate had nobody.

Left on the doorstep of an Orphanage as a baby, she never remembered any life before the one she was living. The workers at the Orphanage did all they could to make sure to remind her and the other kids what a favor they were doing to them, letting them stay there. When she was twelve, a group of five kids, including her, decided to run away.

They were living on the streets for a while until they discovered Kate's talent for breaking into places, sending her to steal food and jewelry that could be traded with money. It's been a whole year before she was first caught, and when she realized the other kids ran off without her she knew for the first time that she was all alone in this world.

She was all she had, and it had to be enough.

It was ridiculously simple to break herself out of the handcuffs and away from the poor officers who only saw a thirteen years old girl and thought it was an easy catch. She worked alone from this point on, managing to stay under the police radar until a newly transferred detective named Dan Spencer decided to keep an eye on her.

He managed to catch her seven times in one year, the last one being the only one he managed to grab a hold of her long enough to put her in.

"Lambert!" one of the guards said. "You got visitors!"

"You probably got it wrong, Nick!" she called back, though with a kindness to her voice she never showed any of the other guards. Nick was the only one who ever made her feel like she was just somebody who life treated him badly rather than an outright terrible person. "I don’t have visitors!"

"Are you Kate Lambert?" he asked, already knowing that she is. "So you've got two now."

Curious, Kate stood up and walked to the other end of the room, making sure her hands were visible as the door opened and Nick stepped inside.

"Please don’t try to run on me," he said as he put handcuffs on her.

"Don’t worry," she replied. "I'm too curious to see my new visitors and besides, I wouldn’t get you in trouble. You're the only one here who's actually nice to me."

"You're the one who put four guards in the infirmary on your first day," he reminded her, showing her out of the room.

"What can I say?" she shrugged. "I have a short temper."

They reached the visitors room, where Kate's hands were released from the handcuffs only to be locked again moments later, tying her to the table. Nick walked out the door just as a second one opened, revealing two men.

The first seemed to be in his late thirties, wearing a long coat, styled similarly to the way people dressed during WWII. Kate remembered seeing him a couple of times while on the streets, usually coming to an odd crime scene not long after the police arrived.

The second one was older, around the age of 45. He was dressed significantly more casual than his associate was, wearing a simple plaid shirt and a brown jacket that reached his waist. By the way he was handling himself as the two of them sat down, it was clear he was the one in charge.

"Kate Lambert," the younger one said in an American accent. "Been looking forward to seeing you for a while now."

"I wasn’t," the other one said, his accent local. "Seventeen different records of crimes you either committed or thought to be the one who committed. Breaking and entering, stealing, attacking law enforcement… should I go on?"

"If you'd like," Kate shrugged. "It's always nice to relive past glories."

"I must admit," the young one said, "I'm curious. The case in Colum Road, that family had top security system. How did you do it?"

"I was never found guilty in this break-in," Kate said. "If you're trying to make me confess, you're doing a rubbish job."

"Hypothetically," the man said. "Humor me."

"Well, hypothetically," Kate said slowly. "Even top security systems stop work if the electricity's off. Like, let's say, during a storm."

"But the power was deliberately cut off," he replied.

"Like I said," Kate smiled. "Storm."

"Are you kidding me?" the older one said. "Jack, what are we doing here?"

"We're here because I said so," Jack replied. "I have a good feeling about this one, Alex."

"Okay, first of all, this whole show doesn’t work on me," Kate said. "I knew from the second you walked in who's really in charge, so don’t try to fool me."

"Okay," Jack said. "Note taken."

"What's second of all?" Alex asked.

Kate smiled as she stood up.

"You shouldn’t be so cocky with where you put your gun," she informed them, making her move.

With two fluent moves, Jack was cuffed to the table and she grabbed a hold of Alex, holding his own gun to his head.

"I'm going to get away from here," she said, her voice slightly shaking. "Hands away from the gun or I'll shoot!" she called, her eyes on Jack's belt.

"I think we can talk about it," Alex said.

"No talking about anything!" Kate called. "I know the camera here's off which means nobody can see what's going on, and there's no way I'm staying here a moment longer."

"You're making a mistake," Jack said. "We can help."

"Nobody can help me," she told them, tears streaming down from her eyes. "I'm alone. That's just how things are, how they always were."

"Let's say you escape," Alex said, "What's next? Where else do you go? The whole city would be out for you."

"I'll leave the city," she replied. "I'll leave the country if I have to."

"With what money?"

"I don’t care!" she called out. "I'll find something, anything! But I'd rather die than stay another moment in here."

"Can I offer you an alternative?" Jack asked.

"Depends," Kate said. "Does it include getting out of here?"

"It could, if you say yes," he replied. "Come work for us. You get a salary big enough for food and a place to sleep."

"And what do you get in return?"

"You," Alex said. "Your brains, your talents, for the rest of your sentence. You managed to sabotage an electricity line under the guise of a storm, cutting off the power of an entire block including our headquarters." He smiled, despite the situation he was in. "It's an 'If you can't beat them, recruit them' sort of thing."

"What if I decide I don’t want it?" Kate asked. "Why shouldn’t I just shoot the both of you right here, take your money and disappear to the other side of the world?"

"Because you're not a killer," Jack said softly. "I've been following you for a couple of months before you got arrested, and you're more likely to run away than kill. Even when you were in situations where it's you or them, you still managed to get all sides through with no casualties. I know what it's like to take a life – it changes you for the worse. Don’t let it change you."

Slowly, Kate put the gun away from Alex's head. Pulling the safety back in, she let it drop down to the floor and let go of the man, who breathed in relief.

"Who are you?" she asked them shakily.

"We're Torchwood," Jack replied, before moving his still-cuffed hands. "I'll be thrilled if you handed me the key."

"I don’t have it," she admitted.

"How did you break out?" he asked, confused.

"Someone left a toothpick on the table," she shrugged, coming closer to pick the lock again. "You'd be surprised to find out how many things I can do with a toothpick."

"The first of which I suppose would be picking at your teeth?" he suggested with a smile as the cuffs finally slipped off his hands.

"I like you already," she said, a hint of a smile at her lips. "Are you really taking me out of here?" she suddenly asked, afraid they changed their mind or, worse, tricked her into letting them go.

"We are," Alex replied. "Grab your things."

"I don’t have any things," Kate told them bitterly, taking her cob watch out of her pocket. "All I ever had was this watch, and even this is broken."

"We'll see if we can help you fix it," Jack offered. "Now let's get you out of here."

**_March 2 nd 1996._ **

Kate looked around nervously when she walked into the Hub, accompanied by the two men who introduced themselves as Captain Jack Harkness and Alex Hopkins. As she deduced, Alex was the one in charge and not Jack, but it was hinted that Jack was there longer.

How much longer, she didn’t know, but apparently it was enough for Alex to count Jack as his second in command, consult him whenever he needed to and respect his opinion. As it turned out, it was this respect that Kate had to thank when it came to her transfer from being another street criminal to being a Torchwood agent.

Or, at least, she would be a Torchwood agent once they finished with what she had of her paperwork.

"We need your signature here, as well," Alex said, rubbing his forehead as Kate read yet another form.

"I'm _not_ having a gun," she said determinedly.

"You had no problem with holding one today," Alex commented. "Held it against my temple, too."

"I was never going to shoot," she confessed. "I'd never do anything like that. I may be a criminal but I'm not a killer."

"You're not a criminal," Alex sighed. "Not anymore, at least."

"Name it what you like, but in the end of the day you still want me to break into places," Kate shrugged. "What?" she asked in response to the odd look Alex was giving her.

"I think I'm gonna like having you around here," he replied.

"Let's get through with this nightmare first," Kate replied. "I agree to pass the tests for authorization of withholding weapons, but I'm not going to carry one on me."

"Fair enough," Alex told her, taking a pen and changing some of the sentences in the file to match what she said before she signed. "Last one," he declared.

"Finally," she muttered. "I thought it'd never end."

"Just an agreement not to talk about what we do here to anybody who isn’t part of the team," Alex said.

"There's a team?" Kate asked, her eyes glazing through the agreement before signing it.

"Of course there's a team," Alex said. "What did you think, that it was only Jack and me here?"

"Well, no," she said. "I just didn’t think I'd actually be… working with people. I'm not so good with people," she explained hurriedly.

"None of us are," Alex promised her as he stood up and headed out of his office. "We're just good with each other."

"Fair enough, I suppose," Kate said, following him out.

As they reached the main area of the Hub, where Alex explained would be the place she would work from, they encountered an odd scene.

Sat on one of the table was Jack, shamelessly flirting with a woman in doctor's clothes before turning his head and saying something inappropriate to the man who sat near the computer. Not far from them, sat a second man who was looking into an odd-shaped device, occasionally smiling at Jack's words.

"Alright," Alex said. "Gather round everybody, we've got a newcomer."

"Oh!" the woman called out, looking eager to get away from Jack, even if it was only for a couple of moments. "You're the new girl."

"I suppose," Kate said, trying her best not to sound as shy as she felt.

"Pleasure to meet you," the woman told her. "I'm Dr. Karen Baldwin. Suppose we'll get to know each other very well as soon as Alex sends you for a medical examination."

"You could always get to know me very well," Jack said with a wink, earning himself a smack at the head from the man who stood next to him.

"Rick Baldwin," he said, turning to introduce himself to Kate. "I'm the computer expert here. No offence, but thank goodness there's another woman on the team. Maybe this can stop Jack from constantly flirting with my wife."

"I doubt it," said the last man, walking towards them. "First of all, she's not of legal age – that much is clear. Maybe in a couple of years she will be an option but Jack doesn’t mess with this sort of things. And secondly," he added before anybody could cut him off, "Jack flirts with you, too. I wouldn’t count on him to stop."

"He doesn’t flirt with you," Rick countered.

"He knows he won't keep up with me," the man teased, before turning to Kate. "James Unsworth. Weapon management." He eyed her for a moment. "This is usually the point when you say your name."

"Kate," she said. "Kate Lambert."

"Nice to meet you, Kate, Kate Lambert," Karen said. "Though James does have a point. How old are you?"

"Sixteen," Kate said. "Well, soon to be sixteen."

Rick let out a low whistle. "How did you get yourself into Torchwood at the age of sixteen?" he asked.

"Remember the cut down of power last February?" Jack asked.

"Do I remember?" Rick huffed. "Took me weeks to restore all the information."

"Yeah," James said. "I still haven’t managed to figure out how a storm managed to break through our defense lines."

"It didn’t," Jack told him. "Somebody deliberately cut off the power supply for the entire block in order to create a malfunctioning in a security system for a house they wanted to break into."

"Seems like an awful lot of trouble for a break-in," Karen said, eyeing Kate suspiciously.

"When people have good security systems, they're not as scared to keep money and jewelry lying around," Kate explained. "Took about an hour to cut down the power without being electrocuted, but after that it was five minutes in and out and enough money to keep me going for about two months."

"You…" Rick stuttered in shock. "But…"

"Well, I like anybody who can leave Rick speechless," James said with a smile. "Let's go pick you the weapon of your choice."

"I don’t want any weapon," Kate said. "I just need to be qualified to have one."

At this, for the first time since she entered the Hub, even Jack looked at Kate oddly.

"What?" she bit out. "I don’t like guns."

"It's okay," Alex said. "I authorized it, and she's part of the team now."

"Appears that way," Jack said, immediately erasing the baffled look and replacing it with another flirtatious grin. "Guess we'll just have to get used to having you for the next ten years of our lives."


End file.
